Because of You
by realmsoffreedom
Summary: "Because of you, I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me. Because of you, I am afraid." After CPS is called on his mother, Eddie is transferred to his father's boarding school in England. Little does he know, his life isn't going to get better as quickly as he thinks it will.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys. I've had this idea for a while. I've wanted to read a story where Eddie is the one self-harming, and Patricia helps him, but all the stories I've seen, save for one, are the other way around. So, I decided to write my own. Depending on the response this gets, I'll keep writing it - I don't want to write something no one wants to read.**

 **Now, onto the story. Eddie is going to be OOC at points. I've developed a backstory for him that has left him with anxiety and that means he'll be a little more fragile than you're used to reading. He's definitely going to have the rebellious streak he has on the show, but the anxiety is going to alter his personality quite a bit. That being said, this story is going to be triggering, and if you're triggered by anything I'm about to mention, I wouldn't advise reading this. I'll put trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter, just so you'll know.**

 **Enough of me talking, enjoy. Trigger warnings - anxiety and panic attacks.**

* * *

The school is fucking _huge._

That's his first observation as his taxi pulls up in front of the main building. For a boarding school, this place is massive. He's seen a bunch in America, but nothing compared to this. Of course, residence halls make up a large part of the reason this place looks so big, but damn. He's gonna get lost for sure.

He pays the driver clumsily, struggling with the new form of currency and what it's dollar equivalent is. It's hard to get used to a new city, let alone a brand new country. Thank god for the language being the same, otherwise he'd be completely lost. "Sorry, I'm still figuring out this stuff."

"No problem at all," the taxi driver replies. "I'm sure you'll learn soon. I'd like to think it's considerably easier here than in America."

Eddie shrugs, and then takes a second to glance around. He's already lost. His head is spinning with the influx of new information and he's not sure where to begin. "Um…do you know where I go from here?"

The driver chuckles. "As a matter of fact, I do. You'll want to find your house first. There are four houses, Anubis, Isis, Hathor, and Mut. Once you're there, your housemother will help you through everything else. Don't worry. They're not going to leave you hanging."

"Alright, thanks." When his bags are unloaded, he grabs the duffel, settling it atop the suitcase, and begins to pull the suitcase forward. He pulls his paperwork from the pocket in his jacket and looks it over. "I'm in Anubis House, apparently."

"Ah, yes," the driver says. "Go straight, all the way until you get to the academic building, and then take a left. Follow the path all the way down, and it should be on your right. Can't miss it."

* * *

Finding his house seemed so much easier than it actually was. The taxi driver made it sound so simple, and yet, here he is, shaky and close to a panic attack. It's a miracle he's been able to hold out this long without having one.

The people here are fucking dicks. None of the students he came across were willing to help him and he couldn't find any teachers. He thought people were rude in America, but this is five times worse. It's most likely the accent; people know he's American from the time he opens his mouth. He knows some countries don't have a good view of America, but damn, he didn't realize England was one of them.

"Oh, hello sweetie!"

The term of endearment is innocent, but he barely manages to keep from flinching. She has no idea, but that's what the bullies used to call him. His last name is easily manipulated, and a lot of the terms of endearment many people use lightly are ruined because of it.

"Um, hi."

"I'm Trudy, I'm your housemother, and you must be Edison, am I right?"

"Eddie, please," he corrects, trying to keep his voice from wavering. She probably already knows everything, but at least he can try to act like he's not about to fall apart.

"Oh, of course, my mistake," she says quickly. "Your father already told me you prefer Eddie, I must've forgot."

"Did he tell you- y'know, everything?"

"He did, love." She puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. But you don't have to worry; none of your housemates will know, not unless you want them to. They're all very nice, I'm sure you'll feel very safe here."

"Thanks."

"Alright then, would you like to see your room? The other kids are all at school, so you have a couple hours to get adjusted without everyone here."

He nods, and she leads him down the hallway, past a common room and a kitchen, to a hallway with two doors.

"How many kids, um, live here?"

"There are ten of you," she replies. "Five boys and five girls. The girls' rooms are upstairs, and the boys' are down here." She opens one of the doors and lets him enter first.

He glances around, eyes widening. It's a pretty decent-sized room. One half is decorated with a few posters. There are a lot of books lying around, and the bedspread is a dark blue. There are some pictures on the nightstand and clothes folded on top of the bed.

"Your roommate's name is Fabian Rutter," Trudy informs him. "Your dad specifically requested him. He's the…calmest, probably the most understanding out of the boys."

"So my dad really told you everything," Eddie mutters, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Don't be angry with him, love. He told me so that I can help you. If you need anything, let me know, okay?"

"Wait, before you go, who are the other kids living here?"

"The other boys are Jerome, Mick, and Alfie, they share the other room, and the girls are Nina, Amber, Patricia, Mara, and Joy," Truly replies. "I'll let them introduce themselves. They're all really very nice kids."

"Is there anything else?"

"Yeah, your father wanted you to stop in his office tomorrow morning, before you go to your first class. Your uniform is in the closet." She smiles at him. "I'll leave you to get settled, alright? I've been cooking all day, so if you want a snack, feel free."

He nods, watching as she leaves, before slumping down on his bed closing his eyes. This is so fucking overwhelming. To go from a place where literally no one fucking cared about him to a place where he's being doted on is a big adjustment. It's funny, how his housemother has been more motherly in ten minutes than his mother was in his sixteen years of life.

* * *

Eddie pulls his earbuds out of his pocket and plugs them into his phone, sticking them in his ears while he looks for a song. Just as he's about to pick one, the door to the room opens and an unfamiliar guy walks in.

He's dressed in the school uniform with his bookbag slung over one shoulder, and he doesn't see Eddie at first, too busy rifling through papers on his desk. When he finally does look up, his eyes widen.

"You're Eddie, aren't you?" He asks, turning around fully to face him. "Trudy told me you were arriving today."

"Yeah," Eddie says. "You're Fabian?"

He nods. "I just came back to grab my French homework; it's our lunch period now."

"You're allowed to leave the school and come back?"

"Yeah," Fabian replies. "But if you're caught here and not at school, you have to deal with Victor."

"Who's that?"

"Housekeeper," Fabian says. "He can be a bit…difficult, for lack of a better word, at times. He's strict, and he doesn't take nonsense. But as long as you do what you're supposed to, you shouldn't have a problem with him."

Eddie shrugs. That shouldn't be too hard. All he has to do is keep his head down and slip by. And compared to what his life used to be, that's a definite one-up. This can't be that bad. Once he gets used to it, that is.

"I need to head back to school now." Fabian sounds regretful and Eddie rolls his eyes. How could he possibly be upset that this conversation is ending? It was awkward and going nowhere to begin with. "I'll see you in a few hours, then I can introduce you to everyone else."

Eddie swallows, forcing a smile onto his face as Fabian leaves. Meeting Fabian was hard enough; he can't imagine what it's going to be like to meet the other eight kids in the house.

* * *

"Fabian, a word?"

Fabian glances up, catching the eye of the headmaster. Mr. Sweet looks visibly nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and acting fidgety and out of sorts. It's worrying – there's no telling what Mr. Sweet is about to say.

Nina, Patricia, Joy, and Mick are looking at him in wonder. He's not sure what he's done wrong, and that's what's playing through his head; a reel of his actions since the term started, allowing him to think about anything he could've possibly done wrong. He rises to his feet and follows his headmaster to the corner of the room. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, of course not," Mr. Sweet answers. "Your grades are the highest they've ever been, and your school record is impeccable. I'd like to talk to you about your new roommate."

"Eddie?" Fabian looks at him in confusion. It's only Eddie's first day, what could Mr. Sweet already have to say about him? He doesn't think Eddie's even met the headmaster, and already he's in trouble?

"Edison is my son, Fabian," Mr. Sweet tells him. "Previously, he lived with his mother in America, but a neighbour called CPS on my...ex wife..." He spits the last two words out with distaste. "And he had to come here. His mother was abusive, and she'd been lying to me about it for years. Eddie's safe now, but he's developed PTSD and he has severe night terrors due to trauma, not to mention a slew of other mental illnesses. Because he's your roommate, I felt it pertinent that you know about this in case something happens while you're around him. And I'd ask you to please not share this with any of your friends. My goal, having Edison here, is to make sure he's as comfortable as possible, and I don't know how comfortable he'd feel having a bunch of strangers this privileged to information about his personal life."

He's taken aback by what Mr. Sweet said. When he first saw Eddie, nothing really struck him as off or unusual, but it's amazing what a person can hide. He knew it was odd that Eddie arrived after the term had already started, but he didn't think much of it until now. Now, everything is starting to make sense. Why Trudy picked him to be Eddie's roommate, her concerned, cautious tone when she told him about Eddie, everything. He finally understands.

"Of course, sir," Fabian responds. "I'll do whatever I can to help him and make this transition easier. You don't have to worry."

* * *

 **Thoughts? If you want to see more, please leave a review! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you guys for your reviews last chapter, I'm glad you're enjoying this. Couple things before you read - there is no mystery in this story. It's gonna focus more on mental health and how they all balance that and school. Trust me, Eddie's not the only one dealing with mental illness. Second - I ship Fabina, Peddie, Amfie, Jara, and Moy. The only couple not together right now is Peddie, for obvious reasons. Mick and Joy's relationship will be explained (how they started talking, how they got together, etc), and I'm changing some things from the show for the other couples, so you'll see that too. Just a warning.**

 **Trigger warning - anxiety, depression, self-harm, and suicide.**

* * *

Any hopes he had about having a relaxing day before school starts tomorrow have officially been shattered.

He's been worried about the other kids coming back since Fabian left, and now, now that Trudy's warned him they're going to be arriving in the next five minutes, he's terrified. He doesn't know what to expect or how to react. He hasn't met this many people in a long time, and he'd be lying if he wasn't freaking out.

The shitty thing about anxiety is the hyper observance. He notices everything, from a change in tone to a shift in posture, and it's terrifying. He could be having a good conversation with someone and there'd be a shift in their tone and then he'd be left wondering what the hell he did wrong. It's irrational – anxiety is just that, but he doesn't know how to live without it. He doesn't know how people don't do it.

It's not that he's a complete invalid, but when it comes to meeting new people and being in a foreign place and having to adjust to all that, his anxiety kicks into high gear. He's usually not this on-edge, but the circumstances of the situation are making it hard not to be.

"Alfie!" A high-pitched shriek echoes through the room as the front door swings open and wave of kids bursts through.

The sound of thudding footsteps follows, and Eddie cranes his neck, watching as the girls run upstairs. They're probably going to put their stuff away, while he's waiting his impending doom.

"Who are you?"

He blinks, zoning back into reality and feeling his heart immediately start to speed up in his chest. A cold sweat is washing over him, making him feel like he's just been dunked naked in a frigid pool. He's trying to keep himself from shaking but that isn't working out so well.

"This is Eddie." A familiar voice enters the conversation and Eddie sighs in relief, glancing toward Fabian. Two other boys are standing next to him, looking at Eddie in confusion.

"Oh, the new kid?"

Fabian nods. "He just arrived today."

The taller one turns to Eddie and holds out a hand. "I'm Jerome, and this is Alfie."

Eddie can feel himself trembling as he meets both of their eyes. "Hi."

"He's American? Looks like Nina's got a friend." Alfie shoots Fabian a smirk. "Maybe they know each other."

"Shut up Alfie," Fabian retorts, rolling his eyes. "If you're trying to get me angry, it's not working."

"Going for a run!" Eddie's eyes travel over to a blond standing in the hallway, bent over to tie his shoes.

"Is Joy going with you?"

"Yep!" Eddie watches, as a brown-haired girl comes bounding down the stairs dressed in a tank top and some workout capris. She leans in to kiss the blond's cheek, and he wraps an arm around her waist. "Back in an hour Trudy, bye!" They leave the building quickly, already starting a conversation.

"Who?" He asks, looking from Fabian to Jerome and Alfie for help.

"Mick and Joy," Alfie explains. "Their idea of a date is a jog around campus. It's disgusting."

"Your idea of a date is going to an arcade and Amber hates that."

"But at least that's a normal date spot!"

"Since when do you get to decide what's normal and what's not?"

Alfie and Jerome's arguing is interrupted by the remaining four girls walking into the room. They've all changed out of their uniforms and gotten rid of their bags, looking a lot more relaxed than they did before.

"Hey, come here." Fabian pulls on the wrist of a dirty blonde, bringing her to his side. "Eddie, this is my girlfriend, Nina."

"It's really nice to meet you," Nina says. "Trudy told us a lot of good things."

He freezes.

Her voice is different.

She has an American accent, just like he does. She's American, just like him. He's not the only foreigner here. He's not the only one who's confused with the different culture and the different way of life and everything. He's not alone.

"You…you're American?" Relief is filling his entire body. He feels like he can breathe again. He's not alone. There's someone here who knows what it's like to be in his position. He's going to be okay.

He's going to be okay.

"Oh wow, he's found someone of his kind."

The sneer comes from a girl with dyed red hair. Eddie recognizes her as one of the girls who wouldn't help him earlier, who steered him in the wrong direction and laughed when he ended up back when he ended up right back where he started.

"Watch it, Patricia," Fabian mutters, glaring at her. "He hasn't done anything to you."

"What, the little baby can't stick up for himself?"

"Do you do this with every new kid you meet?"

"Only the ones that seem like wusses."

Eddie shrugs. "Whatever. Didn't wanna be friends with a bitch like you anyway."

He hears her mumble something equally snarky back, but pays no mind to it as he rises to his feet and makes his way out of the common room.

* * *

"Don't listen to her. She's like this with all new people."

"Why are you making excuses for her?" Eddie mutters, tilting his head back against his pillows and closing his eyes. "She sounds like a real bitch."

Nina sighs. "She's like this with all new people, especially people like us, that aren't from around here."

"How long have you been here?"

She smiles. "This is my second year. I was just like you, last year. Scared and uncomfortable in a new place because I didn't know anyone. Just hang in there. Patricia will warm up to you."

"I'm not so sure I want her to."

"She's not that bad, once you get to know her." A shadow flickers across Nina's face. "She's been through a lot. Being bitchy is her way of protecting herself."

"Don't give me that crap about how she's a kicked puppy that's been hurt in the past and now acts like a brat to protect herself," Eddie grumbles. "I've been through my own shit. Doesn't mean I'm a dick to people."

"You're absolutely right," Nina says. "But if you just give her a chance, she might surprise you."

* * *

When Nina leaves, Fabian takes her place, sitting on the edge of Eddie's bed and looking at him in concern. The look in Fabian's eyes has Eddie suspicious. He knows something. Something that he probably shouldn't.

"Are you okay?" Fabian asks. "Patricia isn't the easiest person to get along with."

"My dad told you everything, didn't he?" Eddie mutters. "That's why you're looking at me like I'm about to fall apart in front of you."

Fabian isn't a very good liar. Eddie knows it as soon as he tries to stutter out some half-assed story about how he was just worried. "You're not a good liar, Fabian. I know he did."

Fabian shoots him a sheepish grin. "He didn't tell me anything, but he told me quite a bit."

"Of course," Eddie replies bitterly. "Because I'm a fragile, crazy, fuck up that comes with warnings signs. Make sure you know what you're signing up for if you wanna be friends with me."

"Eddie-"

"Did he tell you to check my wrists daily too? Because he's so damn afraid I'll freak out and slit them open? That's why I ended up here to begin with."

"Stop," Fabian says firmly. "Your dad just wants me to keep an eye on you. He just wanted me to know what was going on so I wouldn't be confused if you had a panic attack or something. He didn't say anything about checking your wrists or suicide watch, but if it comes down to that, I'll do it. I _am_ worried about you. But that's only because I care."

"You don't even know me."

"I know you like rock music, you wear a lot of black, you don't care what people think about it, and you aren't afraid to stand up for what you believe in," Fabian replies. "And that's all from less than 12 hours."

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" Eddie lifts his head and looks over at Fabian, meeting his eyes. "About how messed up I am. I don't want them to treat me like glass."

"I won't," Fabian promises. "But your past isn't who you are right now. You're so much more than that."

Eddie sighs, shaking his head. "I think I have to get over what happened to feel the same way."

* * *

 **Thoughts? The more reviews I get, the faster you guys will get the next chapter. And in that chapter, Patricia and Eddie get into a bit of a...disagreement, over breakfast, and the stress of everything finally gets to Eddie. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Trigger warning - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of abuse, and mentions of bullying. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Eddie, hey, you gotta get up."

He blinks, squeezing his eyes shut when the bright light burns. "What the hell, Fabian?"

"It's almost 6:30," Fabian says reluctantly. "We need to leave in 45 minutes. Alfie's almost done in the shower and Trudy's putting breakfast on the table. I waited for as long as I could, but you'll be late if you sleep in any longer."

"Ugh." He winces, opening his eyes again. "How long have you been up?" Fabian's already fully dressed, having moved from the edge of Eddie's bed to putting papers in folders and shoving them in his bag.

"Since 6," Fabian says over his shoulder. "I like to shower first so I don't have to fight Jerome, Mick, or Alfie for it. And I can spend extra time with Nina before school. It's a win-win situation."

"Except the whole waking up at the asscrack of dawn part," Eddie mutters, kicking the blanket off his legs. "I should get used to this."

"Didn't you go to school in America?" Fabian asks, turning around to face him. He slides his bag over his shoulder and adjusts the strap, gaze unwavering. "I mean, you would've had to wake up early for that, wouldn't you?"

Eddie shrugs. "Hospital for almost a month, then I was shipped here. It's been a while since I've had to get up this early for anything."

He grabs his uniform from the closet and slips out the door before Fabian can ask another question. He has good intentions and Eddie knows he'd never blab anything to the rest of the house, but there's still reason to be cautious. Fabian has a girlfriend and sometimes things slip out. A slip of tongue to her and soon the entire house will know and he can't deal with that.

Some things are just meant to stay secrets.

* * *

"What's wrong with him, Fabian?"

"What makes you think something's wrong with him?"

"The guy looked like he'd faint when we talked to him," Jerome says, sliding into his seat and immediately reaching for the pitcher of orange juice. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something's not right."

"Leave it, Jerome," Mara warns, sitting down next to him. "If Eddie wanted to talk about it, he would. Don't pressure Fabian into telling you something he shouldn't."

"If something's wrong, wouldn't telling us help?" Jerome asks.

"I think he's just a little overwhelmed," Nina says. "I was the same way when I first started here. The new country, the new way of life…so many things are different here than in America, and it's a lot to get used to. He's fine, it's just everything is overwhelming for him right now."

"You're probably right," Jerome agrees. "He seems like a cool guy though."

"Who, Eddie?" Amber joins them at the table with Alfie at her side. "He's totally Patricia's type! I ship them already!"

"Me and that slimeball? Ew, no way in hell," Patricia mutters, glaring at Amber. "I wouldn't date him if someone paid me."

"Oh come on, Patricia," Nina sighs. "Don't put him through what you put me through. Not all us Americans are horrible. He hasn't done anything wrong."

"Hasn't done anything right, either," Patricia grumbles. "He's one of those stupid assholes that expects people to be nice to him when he hasn't done shit to earn it."

"Can't you at least be _civil_ to him? He's here for the rest of the year and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Maybe Sweetie will move him to a different house if I tell him how much of an asshole that weasel is."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Patricia," Fabian replies immediately. He knows Mr. Sweet wouldn't dream of doing that. What _she_ doesn't know, is that Eddie is the headmaster's son and therefore gets the special treatment of being placed in this house deliberately. For the rest of them, it was completely random, but Eddie was placed here because Mr. Sweet thought it'd be the best and most easy house for him to adjust to. He's not leaving anytime soon.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Sweetie told you something yesterday, didn't he? Spill. What do you know that we don't?"

"Nothing you're supposed to know," Fabian mutters. "If Mr. Sweet wanted all of you to know he would've told us together."

"He's my dad, okay?" Eddie chooses that moment to join the conversation, and from the anger in his tone, he was listening the entire time. "He's my fucking dad. Say whatever the hell you want, I don't care anymore."

* * *

"Mr. Sweet is your dad?"

Eddie sighs, slumping into the chair Nina motions him toward. He lifts his head and glances at Jerome. "Yeah. My parents got divorced when I was really young and dad moved here because he wanted to open a boarding school."

"That's pretty cool," Mara says thoughtfully. "You get to experience two cultures, British and American. You're really lucky."

Eddie snorts, rolling his eyes. If only she knew. If American culture involved hitting your child and calling him an unwanted mistake every day of his life, sure, he did get to experience American culture. And the little British culture he's been exposed to has taught him only that British people are fucking dicks and he doesn't know whether he'd rather be back home. Being abused or being in a foreign place where everyone is an asshole to him, those are his two options. Both situations look bleak.

"Aw, so the little baby gets special treatment from daddy, huh?" Patricia sneers. "Lucky you. You don't get to be a brat just because daddy pays for everything and you get whatever the hell you want."

"You really are a fucking bitch," Eddie shoots back. It's taking everything in him not to explode and tell her exactly why he's here. He wants to, but the thought of people treating him weird because of his past disgusts him. It's already bad enough that Fabian and Trudy know. It won't be long before the other kids realize that they tend to dote on him more and start asking questions.

Patricia glowers at him, not saying anything, and then stands, grabbing the pitcher of milk.

"Oh jesus Patricia, don't you dare," Nina swears, moving to get out of her own seat. Patricia ignores her, stepping over so she's standing right behind Eddie's chair. Before anyone has a chance to say anything, she dumps the pitcher over his head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Eddie exclaims, pushing his now soaked hair from his eyes and twisting in his seat to stare at her. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"She did it to me when I first came here too," Nina says, glaring pointedly at Patricia. "That was uncalled for."

"Him being here was uncalled for," Patricia defends.

"Fuck you."

* * *

Eddie stumbles into the room he shares with Fabian and collapses on his bed. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he feels like it's about to explode. He feels like he's going to die. He's dripping and his eyes are burning, both from the milk and the tears building. Worse than the physical pain, however, is the incessant shaking and nausea that's settling at the pit of his stomach. He's in a room full of air, but he's finding it hard to breathe.

"Hey, you okay?"

He barely registers Fabian's entrance into the room, too focused on his racing heart. It's dizzying – his attacks always are. He's never able to be completely aware through one.

An arm winds itself around his shoulders and a hand rubs his back firmly. "Breathe, Eddie. You need to breathe. Try and calm your breathing down, okay? Just focus on that."

He tries to take in a deep breath, but sucks the air in too fast and ends up coughing, choking on oxygen. That only makes his chest hurt more. This must be what a heart attack feels like. They say when you have a panic attack you genuinely feel like you're going to die, and that couldn't be more true. He can't differentiate between reality and fantasy anymore.

It takes a good five minutes for his vision to clear. He inhales and exhales slowly, blinking, waiting for something else to happen. He's always on-edge afterward. It takes a while for that feeling to go away. The exhaustion that follows every panic attack isn't foreign either. What sucks is that now he has to get through an entire school day. Fuck.

"You okay?" Fabian asks, pulling his hands away. "That looked pretty bad."

"That's normal," Eddie mutters hoarsely. He turns his head to look at Fabian and feels his cheeks get hot. He has to explain this somehow. As much as he wants to forget the past, it's hard to do when it keeps knocking him on his ass. "I, um, I was bullied. A lot. I didn't go to school much because of it. And what Patricia did, kinda…brought me back? I dunno, it's stupid."

"It's not," Fabian replies. "It's not stupid. Your dad told me you have PTSD. It's normal, after what you've been through."

"I don't want 'normal after what I've been through'!" He snaps. "I just want to be normal. I don't want any of this stupid baggage. And now the rest of the damn house thinks I'm gonna get special treatment and they'll hate me. Fuck my existence."

"No, hey, listen," Fabian says quickly. "They're not all like Patricia. She's just…difficult. Really difficult. And she can be really horrible when she wants to be. This is just her way of making sure she won't get hurt, even though it's the wrong way of going about it. But everyone else…they don't agree with her, Eddie. You saw the looks on their faces. They don't agree with her and they don't like the way she handles things but she doesn't listen. Just stay out of her way and try not to push her, and she'll leave you alone."

"I guess you're right." He forces a smile. "Thanks. You can go now, don't be late. I gotta shower again."

Fabian shakes his head. "No, go. Be quick. I'll wait. This way you'll have an alibi."

* * *

 **Patricia's really bitchy. I know that. I'm trying to keep her in character, and I may be exaggerating a bit, because I want there to be a deep contrast between their relationship now and their relationship at the end of this. Eventually, she's going to find out some things about Eddie that will change her perspective, but they've still got a rocky road to travel down. Next chapter, Eddie and Jerome are gonna talk a lot, and there's definitely going to be more Amfie and Moy moments, so look forward to that. The more reviews I get, the faster I update! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Guys, I really would like some more reviews. I've only been getting one on the last two chapters, and I appreciate whoever has, but I work really hard on these chapters and all I'm asking for in return is a review. I'm doing the hard work here, so please, review and tell me what you thought. Getting reviews makes my day, I love hearing what you guys have to say.**

 **Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of suicide, and abuse.**

* * *

"I need to go stop in and see my dad," Eddie says, as they enter the school building. "Show me where his office is?"

"Sure," Fabian replies. "It's this way." He leads Eddie down a series of hallways and eventually stops at a door marked 'Headmaster'.

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles. He pauses outside the door, hand reaching for the doorknob, and closes his eyes. "Sorry, um…I haven't really seen my dad in almost ten years."

He sees Fabian's eyes widen, and shock is visible on his face. "Didn't your dad come see you, while you lived with your mom?"

"He hated her," Eddie tells him. "Everything about her. As long as he was away from her, nothing else mattered. Even I wasn't worth coming back for. The day the divorce was finalized, he packed up his shit, left for England, and never looked back."

"Eddie…" Fabian rests a hand on his shoulder. This really is breaking his heart. He barely has any idea what Eddie's been through, but it's clearly a lot. He doesn't deserve Patricia's snarky comments about his rich father – if she knew what was really going on, she'd shut up real quick. It's amazing what a person can hide. He'd never know Eddie was carrying all this baggage just by looking at him. "Do you want me to come in with you? I don't mind."

Eddie swallows, shaking his head. "I need to do this on my own."

"Okay. But you're not on your own," Fabian insists. "And when you're ready to tell the others, they'll be there for you just like I am. You're not alone anymore, Eddie. You don't need to be. You have people who'll fight for you."

"I know," Eddie replies. Fabian doesn't push any further. He can see that Eddie is on the verge of tears; his eyes are slowly becoming red and his voice keeps breaking. He knows that crying would embarrass the other boy further, so he keeps quiet, hand still on Eddie's shoulder, a gesture of comfort.

"Your dad's probably going to give you your schedule and locker combination, and walk you through some basic things." He's not an idiot. He knows Mr. Sweet is going to delve into personal stuff with Eddie. He knows that Eddie's already been through a lot today. The only thing he doesn't know is how badly everything is truly affecting the blond.

* * *

Eddie takes another deep breath and opens the door. He's immediately faced with his father, who's sitting behind his desk and typing something on a computer. Their gazes meet when he looks up, clearly having heard the door open. They stare at each other for a few moments, and then Eddie breaks the silence, closing the door behind him and taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his father's desk.

"Um…you wanted to see me?"

"Edison…it's been so long…"

"Yeah, that's kinda what happens when you leave the country and don't visit your son for almost ten years," he snaps. "If this is gonna be you giving me bullshit excuses, I don't want to hear them. Just give me my schedule and locker combo so I can go."

"That's not what this is," Mr. Sweet replies. "There are no excuses for me to make, Edison. I screwed up. I never should've left you with her. I should've visited. I'm not going to sit here and try to justify my actions. I'm just so sorry you had to go through that. I'm your father, I should've been there for you when you needed me."

Eddie nods. "You really should've. You didn't try to contact me. You didn't even care." He feels the tears burning in his eyes again, but blinks them back. He can't cry right now.

"I did," Mr. Sweet insists. "I sent you letters, I called, I emailed…your mom got rid of the letters before you could read them and intercepted my calls. I only just found out about that, and that she gave me a fake email address. I tried, I promise I did. Not as hard as I could have, but I did try to get in touch with you."

"It took me trying to kill myself for you to get off your ass and actually give a damn about me for once," Eddie mutters. "I don't have any sympathy for you."

His father winces. "Edison, I'm sorry, I-"

"No!" Eddie cries. His voice cracks and the tears break through their dam and begin pouring down his cheeks. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to apologize and have it all be okay! You have _no idea_ what she did to me." He bites the last few words and he's full on crying now, but he doesn't care. This has been building for years.

He buries his head in his hands and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pull himself together. It's hard to reel his emotions back in when they're just begging to be let out. He didn't expect this; he didn't expect to break down like this. He shouldn't be embarrassed about it because it's his father he's talking to, but after ten years apart, his father is basically a stranger. He barely remembers him.

He feels a hand begin to rub large circles on his back and he flinches at the touch. It's an instinct as a result of too many hands being laid on him the wrong way, and his body relaxes once it realizes that his father's touch isn't out of anger but comfort.

When he's calm enough to lift his head, he sees that his dad is kneeling beside the chair with one hand on his back. "S-Sorry." He's so tired, from the panic attack earlier and the mini breakdown he just had. Living with anxiety is so fucking exhausting.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Mr. Sweet straightens and goes back behind his desk, pulling out a couple of papers. "We can talk about this later, when you're more up to it. For now, this is your schedule." He puts one of the papers in front of Eddie and traces his finger down the line of classes.

Eddie glances over it. Algebra 2, Chemistry, French, English, history…they're all what he expects. He has one free period and a music class, both the electives he chose. That makes this a little better. He has to deal with all the shitty classes, but gets two electives to relax in.

"I tried my best to give you at least one class with someone in your house," his dad continues. "So you have Algebra with everyone, Chemistry with Fabian, Joy, Patricia, and Nina, French with Fabian, Jerome, Mick, and Mara, English with Amber, Alfie, Patricia, and Nina, history with everyone, music with Fabian, and finally, your free with Patricia. There's around 40 minutes left in your first class, but you don't need to go. Pull yourself together, and you can join your friends in your second class."

It's a mix of good and shitty. At least he only has one class with the bitch. Nina and Fabian said that she uses rudeness as a coping mechanism, and that's fine, but he hasn't done anything to deserve it. Leaving everything he knows and entering the unknown has been hard enough without her attitude and unnecessary comments. If anything, she's making his anxiety worse.

"Thanks," he says, although it comes out as more of a whisper. "I'm sorry I'm so messed up."

"Edison, look at me." The words are sharp, bordering on harsh, and as another instinct, his head snaps up so fast he's surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. "You are _not_ messed up. You're traumatized from what happened, but I would be surprised if you weren't. It's okay. You have every right to be. I don't know what exactly she did to you, but I can't even begin to imagine how bad it was. But you're out of there now, and you're safe. I promise you that. I haven't been there for you and I haven't been consistent, but this is a promise that I _am_ going to keep."

* * *

Eddie takes a seat on one of the sofas in the school common room and closes his eyes. If he's lucky, he can fit in a half hour power nap before his next class. All the other students are in class right now, so it's the perfect opportunity to catch up on sleep.

"Eddie!"

Just as he's about to drift off, the shout of his name startles him. He groans. "Fucking hell, what? I was almost asleep."

"Someone's not in a good mood." Jerome plops down next to him and pulls the strap of his schoolbag over his head. "Ditching on your first day? Courageous, are we?"

"I had to meet with my dad and he said I didn't have to go to my first class," Eddie says flatly. "Now can you leave so I can sleep?"

"Something happened to you in America," Jerome replies. "Something that made you transfer here."

"Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"You just went fuckin' white, mate." Jerome eyes him up and down. "You look like you've just seen a ghost. What's going on?"

"I'm fine," Eddie insists. "Why are _you_ not in class? You don't have an excuse."

"But I _do_ have a free. And you still haven't answered the question."

"Excuse me for not wanting to tell someone I barely know my goddamn life story."

"Then how come Fabian knows?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Because my dad thinks I'm so messed up that he, as my roommate, needed a warning. To realize what he's getting himself into if he befriends the fuck up."

"At least your dad cares about you," Jerome mutters. The change in his demeanor and tone is prominent. He's gone from joking to bitter in the span of two minutes.

"I just saw him for the first time in ten years," Eddie replies. "He doesn't give a shit."

"Can I tell you something?" Jerome asks suddenly. He's playing with his fingers, avoiding eye contact. Eddie knows that their conversation has abandoned all hopes of being light-hearted. It got really serious really quick. "I can't tell Alfie because he'd tell Amber and then the whole house would know, and I don't want to tell Mara yet because she'd freak. I barely know you so you won't get all hurt if I tell you my real feelings and don't dumb it down to save yours."

"Sure." He's worried, but only slightly. Nothing surprises him at this point. He knows what Jerome has to say isn't going to be good, definitely not, but it probably won't shock him. It's evident by his tone that Jerome's been through something shitty as well.

"My dad's in jail and has been for as long as I can remember," Jerome confesses. "I don't know him. He's trying to get in contact with me and every time I think about it I feel like I can't breathe."

Eddie sighs. "That fuckin' sucks."

"I don't know how to tell Mara," Jerome continues. "I just…I don't want her to worry about me."

"I've never dated anyone," Eddie replies. "So I'm the worst person to give you advice on this, but I think you should. She cares about you a lot, and if something in your life is bothering you, you should tell her."

"I know, you're right," Jerome agrees. "I just don't know how. We've had our fair share of problems but everything's okay now. I don't want to ruin things right after they've gotten good."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Please, leave me a review and tell me. I know I said there'd be Amfie and Moy scenes in this, but Eddie and his dad's conversation got longer than I expected it to. They'll be in the next chapter, I promise.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews last chapter. If you could keep that up, it'd make me really happy.**

 **Trigger warnings - anxiety, mentions of depression, and mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

"Where are you going?" Jerome asks, as the bell rings, dismissing them from first period.

"Straight to hell," Eddie mutters under his breath. "Chem. Any chance you could tell me how to get there?"

"Go down that hallway and turn left," Jerome instructs. "Should be the second door on your right."

Eddie nods. "What do you have?"

"Creative writing," Jerome says, his voice practically a whisper. "Don't blab to the whole house, okay? I took it because I kinda like writing and I needed an outlet for my feelings. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course," Eddie replies. "That's music and song-writing for me. You shouldn't be embarrassed about it, though. It's nothing to be ashamed of, man."

Jerome shrugs. "Society's a bitch when it comes to this shit."

Before Eddie has a chance to answer, he turns and walks off in the other direction. The bell is about to ring again, so Eddie does the same, hoping Jerome's directions were genuine and he won't get lost. Jerome seemed to like him, so he wouldn't give him the wrong directions on purpose, would he?

He didn't expect Jerome to tell him something that big. It makes sense, why he did, though. He's new and hasn't had time to form opinions of the rest of the house yet, and therefore whatever Jerome had to say wouldn't hurt because they have no attachment to each other. It's smart, and Eddie knows he'll probably do the same. The only person he wouldn't want to tell things to would be Fabian, because Fabian has already had time to get attached and he doesn't want to hurt him.

"Eddie!" He glances up as Fabian falls into line beside him. "How'd it go with your dad?"

Eddie shrugs. "He gave me my schedule and locker combo, and we kinda talked. I dunno. I still don't know what to say to him."

"Has it really been ten years?"

"Let's put it this way," he replies. "The last time I saw him was the day school let out for Thanksgiving break when I was in first grade, the day the divorce was finalized."

* * *

She's startled when he practically _falls_ onto the sofa, jumping and almost dropping her laptop.

"Ugh, get lost," she mutters, righting her computer. "Go bother someone else."

"I'm not bothering you," Eddie protests. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and adjusts his body so he's stretched out on the sofa, lying on his back. "I'm allowed to lie here if I want to."

"Yeah? Well I'm allowed to not want you here," Patricia retorts. "Not on this sofa, not in this common room, hell, not even in this damn school! Why'd you even come here? And start in the middle of the term? I don't understand you at all."

Eddie shrugs. "That makes two of us. Honestly, though? Do you ever stop talking? Always have something to say, don't you? Maybe I should call you Blabs…wait no, Yacker, that's better." He scoots up to sit against the other arm of the couch and smirks at her. "Yacker it is."

"And maybe I should call _you_ a cab back to the airport," Patricia snaps. She slides off the couch and brings her laptop up to the room she shares with Mara and Joy, not wanting to hear Eddie's response.

"Oh jesus christ, lock the door next time, will you?" Using one hand to support the computer, she brings the other over her eyes. She's lost count of how many times she's had to walk in on Mick and Joy in a heated make out session. The last couple times have been more heated than most, considering they're both shirtless and damn well near taking off their pants too.

"Shit, sorry Trixie!" Mick grabs for his shirt and slips it on, pressing one last kiss to Joy's lips.

"Why bother saying sorry?" She replies. "You never mean it. And _don't_ call me Trixie."

She waits for the sound of his footsteps on the stairs before collapsing on her bed. "Fuck Joy, I hate him."

Joy freezes, in midst of pulling on her shirt. "What makes you hate my boyfriend?"

She groans. "Not Mick. Eddie."

"I don't get that, Patricia," Joy replies. "What's there to hate?"

"He's an obnoxious, rude, shitty _American_ whose only tie to British culture is the bullshit in Harry Potter!"

"And that's a reason to be such a bitch to him?" Joy rolls her eyes. "If you don't like him, why are you so interested in provoking him? You know he's not the type to back down from something like that."

"He seems like a wimp."

"I was talking to Fabian earlier and he said that Eddie's got some shit, like baggage, or whatever. And you're really not helping."

"Who said I wanted to help him?"

"So you'd rather hurt him?"

"He's not some precious flower, Joy. He can stand up for himself."

"Why do you care so much?" Joy asks, glancing at her. "I mean, if you really hated him, you'd ignore him and that'd be it. You don't really hate him as much as you say you do."

"That's bull."

"Whatever you say," Joy replies. She pulls her phone out of her pocket begins typing a text, while Patricia watches, a sick feeling settling itself at the pit of her stomach.

"Have I really been that bad…?"

"He had a panic attack after you pulled that little stunt at breakfast," Joy replies flatly. "Fabes told me. But don't mention it to Eddie. The only reason Fabian told me is because he thought I'd be able to talk you out of being such a bitch to him. Although that's harder than I thought it'd be."

* * *

He pulls on his leather jacket and makes sure his arms are covered before he turns off the light and leaves his room, joining the rest of the house in the common room.

"Jesus, get a room, will you?" Eddie mutters, as Amber and Alfie hurriedly break apart. She rests her forehead against his and he tightens his arms around her. "Is this a normal thing I'm gonna have to get used to?"

"We've barely seen each other today," Alfie says in defense. "We're making up for lost time."

"All of us have two classes together, so it couldn't have been that long," Jerome mutters. "God forbid you two go an hour without each other."

"Like you and Mara haven't been attached at the hip since we got here?" Alfie shoots back, motioning to their intertwined hands. "You have no room to talk, Clarke."

"Am I the only one in this house not dating anyone?" Eddie asks. "Because that'll get really annoying really fucking quick."

"Patricia's single," Amber replies. "And you two would be amazing together!"

Eddie snorts. "Why the hell would I wanna go out with that bitch?"

Joy sighs. "She…she can be kinda difficult, but she's not that bad. I know all you've seen of her is the bitchy side, but there's so much more to her than that, I promise. She just needs to trust you."

"I haven't done anything for her not to trust me," Eddie says. "I've given her no reason to be such a bitch. Just because she's been through some shit doesn't mean she gets to act like that."

"Enough about Patricia," Mara says, quickly changing the subject before the conversation can get more heated. Eddie knows how close Joy and Patricia are, and from the look on Joy's face, things would've gotten really ugly. "Eddie, what's it like to live in America? I've never been, and I know Nina's the only one out of all of us who has."

His heart seems to skip a beat and immediately start working overtime. How is he supposed to answer this question? He doesn't know much besides abuse, neglect, depression, suicidal thoughts…that was the reality for him. He doesn't know about the typical American culture because his mom never let him experience it. He knows disappointment and sadness and whatever he's seen in the movies, which is hardly accurate.

"Uh…it was fun, I guess," he stutters, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Not much different from here, really."

"What part of America did you live in?"

"New York," he replies. "The more suburban part. There were a couple subway stations I used to get into the actual city, though."

"Oh my god!" Nina exclaims. "I'm from New Jersey! You're not that far away from me!"

He swallows against the lump in his throat and forces a smile. "Yeah, that's pretty cool. It's amazing that we didn't run into each other there." _Jesus, Eddie. Could you be any more of a liar? It's not like she would ever let something like that happen._

"What's New York like?" Amber scoots off Alfie's lap and moves closer to him. "Is it as glamorous as they say in the movies? Have you met any celebrities? Gone to any fashion shows? Tell me everything!"

Shit. There's no way to get out of this one. "Um…it's busy, I guess. There's always something to do. And, um…I guess you could say it's glamorous? I dunno, I'm not really into that stuff. I did a lot of skateboarding and sitting at bus stops and song writing, that was my thing. I haven't really met any celebrities, and again, fashion's not my thing, so I've never been to a fashion show."

It's not a complete lie. He does love skateboarding and he did a lot of it, along with writing a lot of songs. He did whatever he could to get out of the house, because staying home meant risking a beating and there were days he just couldn't take anymore of that. The rest of his answer is the typical thing you hear about New York, but he's hoping Amber doesn't pick up on that.

"You skateboard? That's cool," Mick speaks up. "I tried it a couple months ago, it was amazing."

"Yeah, I've been doing it for five years," Eddie replies. "It's kinda an escape."

"That's music for me," Fabian says. "You said something about song writing…I do that too. I love it."

"It's my dream to go to New York," Amber murmurs, closing her eyes. "I want to study fashion and meet famous designers, it'd be amazing."

"I don't get it, Eddie," Alfie says. "New York sounds so good, what made you decide to leave and come here?"

He's so sick of people asking him this question. It's personal and he doesn't want to talk about it but they just won't leave it alone. He'll probably end up telling them and dealing with how shitty it'll make him feel, just to shut them up. This is seriously getting old. "It wasn't my fucking choice, okay? Now can you guys please stop fucking asking?"

* * *

 **Thoughts? You got to see a little of Patricia's POV, that's going to be major in the next chapter. She's on the path to finding out some really interesting things about Eddie, things that'll change everything she knows about him. There's also going to be some Fabina and Jerome might actually tell Mara about his dad...the more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Heavy trigger warning for self-harm, depression, anxiety, and suicide. Be careful.**

* * *

Their faces say everything.

Confusion mixed with anger, a reason to be pissed because he had _no reason_ to yell like that. It was a simple question, a valid one at that. He had no reason to cause that outburst, no reason to swear at them like they were the devils when he knows in his heart that _she_ is.

"Eddie, I-"

"Please don't." The words that leave his lips don't feel like his own and he can barely distinguish whose voice it is. He's shaking and his head is pounding. The exhaustion of the panic attack and the breakdown in his father's office is finally catching up to him. His mental power is slowly dwindling. "I'm sorry."

He chokes out the words hurriedly, and the crack in his voice on the apology makes it obvious that he's on the verge of tears. He gets to his feet so fast it leaves him dizzy, and almost trips over himself as he stumbles into his room.

Locking the door behind him, he drops to his knees in front of his haphazardly thrown duffel bag and starts pulling clothes out and tossing them on the floor. When he gets to the very bottom of the bag, he pulls the last thing out and throws the bag off to the side, turning to sit against his bed with it in his hands.

He unwraps the layers of paper towels and traces the pads of his fingers against the razor sharp edges of the blade. There's a reason he stocked up on disposable razors while in America and it's not because he was monitoring his barely there stubble. There are so many more from where this came from.

He slips off his leather jacket and wastes no time slashing at his left arm. The cuts are messy, jagged with sharp edges, and painful. It always hurts more to do it this way than in neat slits. But that's what he wants. He welcomes the pain, dives straight into the abyss of it and never looks back.

The sight of blood quells the symptoms of the impending panic attack. He lets his head flop back, exhausted, and closes his eyes. Maybe he'll bleed out. He wouldn't be opposed to that. It would make things a whole lot easier.

He sets the blade down and looks back at his arm, tracing his fingers over the long white scar that travels the length of his forearm. He remembers that day all too well.

He remembers arriving at the group home he'd be staying at while everything was arranged for him to fly to England. He remembers the other kids looking at him like he was a piece of trash on the sidewalk, ogling his fresh bruises and black eye like he was some kind of museum exhibit. He remembers his roommate telling him he should've died in that hellhole and he remembers agreeing.

He remembers making the cut and not being able to see through the tears. He remembers screaming in pain because the wrist he'd cut into was the same wrist his stepfather had come close to breaking the day before. He remembers the blood. He remembers how quickly it came, how fast it spread, a sea of red that just kept flowing and flowing.

He doesn't remember much after that, only a scream as the door opened before he gave in to the world of darkness. He does, however, remember waking up in the hospital and realizing just how _shitty_ he felt. Couldn't even kill himself right. He remembers expecting to see his dad finally, for the first time in almost ten years, and then beating himself up for having the slightest hope that he'd come. He remembers wondering what it would take for his father to _care_ , to drop everything for him like a parent _should_ , because clearly attempted suicide wasn't enough.

He's never been enough.

* * *

"What the hell was that?"

"I've never seen someone freak out that bad over something so stupid," Alfie mutters. "I don't care that he doesn't wanna talk about it. Why does he?"

"If he'd given some fake answer, we probably would've asked him about it again," Mara points out. "That outburst was meant to get a point across, which he did. I just don't understand why he was crying…"

"He's got some problems," Fabian tells him. "He's dealing with them, but they're pretty serious and it takes time. He's okay, just overwhelmed."

"You keep saying that," Mick mumbles. "Overwhelmed. It's been a couple days, shouldn't he be used to everything by now?"

Nina chuckles humorlessly. "It takes much longer than two days to adjust, Mick. There are parts of this country even _I'm_ not fully adjusted to. And you guys do realize he didn't just come in the middle of the term for no reason, right? Something happened for him to start late. He's probably dealing with that too. Cut him some slack."

"I wish he'd just let us help him," Jerome sighs. "He's suffering and it's obvious but he's too fucking stubborn to let us in. It'll build up until eventually he breaks and who knows whether we'll be able to pick up the pieces."

"Don't be so pessimistic," Mara chastises, nudging his shoulder. "I'm sure Eddie's fine. We'll just watch him more closely for the next couple days to make sure of it. But I'm telling you, he's fine. It's a lot, moving to a new country, leaving a paradigm."

"English, please."

"A paradigm is a pattern," Fabian supplies. "He had a routine in America, a routine he'd been used to. Coming here has messed that up and he's still trying to adjust. It's foreign to us because _this_ is our routine, but it's not uncommon for someone not used to it need time."

"Not to mention how hard Patricia's been making it," Nina mutters. "I know you guys don't think she's that bad and that she takes time to get used to, but she did the same thing to me when I first got here, and I was a mess. I think she's being even worse on Eddie."

"That's how Patricia is, though," Joy points out. "And we all know why she was so bitchy to you."

"That doesn't make it okay," Nina protests. "After she dumped that milk on my head, I remember calling my gran and just sobbing because I hated it here so much. I didn't have any friends, I didn't know anyone, and there was this girl being an utter fucking bitch to me for no reason. It hurt, a lot."

Fabian pulls her closer and presses a kiss to the side of her head. "Breathe, you're okay. I'm here." She sighs and shakes her head, resting her head on his shoulder. He glances up at the rest of his friends, moving his arm from Nina's waist to her shoulders. "She's right. And I know we don't know a lot about Eddie yet, but Mr. Sweet told me some things…he has some issues, guys. He's been through a lot of shit. Patricia's making his life much harder than it needs to be."

"Someone needs to talk to her," Mara concludes. "I mean, the teasing and joking around is okay, but she's crossing a line."

Joy holds her hands up in surrender. "It's not gonna be me."

"I'll do it," Jerome offers. "I've known her the longest. She'll listen to me."

"I hope so."

* * *

The morning that follows is painfully awkward.

He's hyperaware of his arms, trying to make sure they stay covered without looking too suspicious. As far as his father knows, he's been clean for a month. Too bad he ended that streak yesterday. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't regret doing it. He's glad he did. The physical pain calms him and distracts from the mental agony. The only annoying part is trying to keep his sleeves down. He's used to rolling them up to his forearms, but he can't do that until the cuts heal completely.

Breakfast is silent and awkward. Everyone keeps giving him these glances of concern mixed with confusion, and it only makes his anxiety skyrocket. They've definitely been talking about him. Fabian probably told them everything and now they think he's some sort of freak. They wouldn't be wrong about that. He _is_ a freak. A freak that relies on pain to feel normal.

At least he knows the school now. He doesn't have to ask any of them for help. He hasn't spoken to any of them since the incident, and he doesn't plan to. If they leave him alone and he stays away from them, they'll all make it through the term without a hitch and then he can go away for the summer and everything will be okay. He just wants to feel okay again. With an abusive mom, a shitty stepfather, and an absent father, he hasn't felt okay in so long, and he longs for the day he can feel that again.

He slides into his seat in Algebra 2 nervously, pulling at his sleeves to make sure they're not riding up. He made sure to button them, which he usually wouldn't do, but that should hopefully keep down. It'd be a fucking nightmare if his relapse were broadcasted to the world. He'd never hear the end of it. He just hopes his cuts don't bleed because the uniform shirt is white and the sweater is light grey, both of which would do a terrible job at hiding bloodstains.

He's startled when the bell rings and it's accompanied by a loud groan. He's still tired; having anxiety is tiring. He's exhausted and achy and he feels like shit. This is not making his day any better.

"Oh come on, seriously?" Patricia is standing in front of him, looking less than pleased, and when he looks around, he realizes that every other seat in the room is taken. Joy and Mick are sitting together, as are Fabian and Nina, Amber and Alfie, and Mara and Jerome. The seat next to his is the only free one, and he now shares Patricia's annoyance. Some luck he has.

"Get over yourself Yacker, I know you've been looking forward to this all day," he says, as she sits down next to him with a huff. Her presence immediately has him on edge, eyes darting to his sleeves to make sure they're still clean. The moment she sat down, an alarm set off inside of him. He's shaking uncontrollably, and his heart is pounding fast.

"Don't flatter yourself," she retorts, putting her bag down. She rakes her fingers through her hair and moves it out of her face. "I'd rather rip all my hair out."

"Oh, feel free to do that," Eddie encourages. He barely knows what he's saying; words are just coming out of his mouth in garbled mouthfuls. He hopes she doesn't pick up on how anxious he really is. "I'm sure we'd all find it _very_ entertaining."

"Shut it, Slimeball."

"Is that what they're calling me these days? Thanks for the compliment."

"I swear to fucking god-"

She doesn't get to finish her sentence, because the teacher walks in and immediately starts class.

And just as he predicts, it's hell. Sitting next to Patricia is so fucking awkward. If he wasn't paranoid about his arms before, he definitely is now. She can't find out. She can't even have an inkling of a thought about it. She'll tell everyone. It's not like she'll give a shit about his feelings and how bad the bullying will get if they know. He's ruined if she blabs it to the entire house. No one can find out.

 _"Why don't you do us all a favor and cut a vein?"_

 _"Freak."_

 _"What kind of human slits his wrists for his own enjoyment? Fucking psycho."_

The list goes on. The bullying he endured at his old school _did_ make him hope he hit vein every time he did it. They ostracized him when they found out. He felt like a freak. A lonely, fucked up freak that had nothing and no one. He didn't have friends, and no one wanted to be his friend after they found out. He went to a smaller school where everyone knew everyone, and word travelled fast. The chain of events cannot repeat themselves. He can't go through that again. The bullying combined with his mother's abuse manifested itself into the worst suicidal thoughts he's ever had. He can't go through that again.

He spends the period in a daze, trapped in the memories of his own personal hell. It's a trance he doesn't get out of until the bell rings again, signaling the end of the period. He gathers his books and walks out of the room in the same haze, ignoring Fabian's calls, ignoring the additional cries of his name, ignoring everything.

He doesn't know what's happening until he finds himself in the boys' bathroom with the blade back against his wrist, and only then, does he feel at peace.

* * *

 **I know I said there'd be Patricia POV, but Eddie's self-harm scene wasn't planned and kinda took over. It'll be in the next chapter, I promise. Reviews would be amazing, thank you for all the ones you left last chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Trigger warnings - self-harm, suicide, anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, and depression.**

* * *

The rest of the school day passes in a blur. He goes to his classes, but doesn't remember a thing that any of his teachers said. He ended up ditching Chem, and he knows he's going to get a lot of shit from his dad for it, but he didn't expect his cuts to bleed so much after Algebra 2 and he needed to spend the extra time stopping the blood and making sure they wouldn't reopen.

He gets back to Anubis house as quick as he can, and shuts himself in his and Fabian's room, politely declining Trudy's offers to make him something to eat. He turns up the volume on his phone and lets his favorite My Chemical Romance album play while he begins work on a new song. Song writing isn't something he gets to do as often as he would like, but it's something that calms him and keeps him grounded, a much healthier way of coping than taking a blade to his wrist.

He allows himself to relax and get comfortable, something he hasn't been able to do in a long time. Being here has made him constantly on edge, feeling like his every move is going to be judged. It's nice to take a break from that and just unwind.

A hand pulling one of his earbuds out soon invades his perfect paradise. He glances up, irritated, straight into the eyes of a worried-looking Fabian. "I was calling you for almost five minutes! How loud is your music?"

"Loud enough to drown out my mind," Eddie mutters. "What do you want?"

Fabian sighs. "You weren't in Chem this morning. You dad was worried. He was distracted all period because of it."

"Fuck him."

"Eddie-"

"He hasn't given a damn about me in ten years. It's too late to start now." He turns back to his notebook and blinks to rid his eyes of the already forming tears. This is so fucking annoying. He can't help his emotions, but crying at the thought of his dad is really starting to get old. When is he gonna stop being a fucking wimp and get over it all? He's had enough of this.

Fabian pulls his bag off his shoulder and tosses it onto his bed, before taking a seat on the edge of Eddie's. "I'm sure he cares..."

"If someone hadn't called CPS on my mom, he would've never known she was hitting me. He didn't even think to call and check up on his kid when I didn't answer his emails or letters. Some fucking father he is. He doesn't get to care now, not after he spent ten years oblivious," Eddie grumbles. "It's too late."

"I'm sure he-"

"Stop _fucking_ defending him!" Eddie exclaims, throwing his pen down angrily. "I know he's our headmaster and you have to worship him and whatever, but I don't want to hear it! He doesn't care about me. The only reason he's involved in my life now is because he has to be, because he has the legal obligation as my father to do so. But even then, my mom had the legal obligation to take care of me and look what I got in return."

"I'm sorry," Fabian replies. "I know I suck at this. This is all new territory for me. You'd have been better off rooming with Jerome, but your dad probably didn't want to split him and Alfie up."

"They're best friends, aren't they?"

"They're like brothers." Fabian sighs. "Listen, Eddie, you're not the only one who's had it rough. Jerome's life hasn't been that great either. He knows what you're going through. You really should talk to him about this, rather than me. My life's been pretty great, if you forget about the bullying." He mutters the last part under his breath, but Eddie hears it anyway.

"What bullying?" He pulls his other headphone out, turns off his music, and flips his songbook closed. This has become a conversation that needs his undivided attention.

Fabian shrugs. "Ah, just simple stuff. Name-calling, being shoved in lockers, having my head dunked in toilets, the usual things."

"That's…that's awful," Eddie says slowly, staring at him. He had no idea. One of the worst things about being mentally ill is the feeling that no one else knows what you're going through. You're so fucking fucked up, all on your own, and you feel so isolated because there's something definitely wrong with you that isn't wrong in anyone else. "I had no idea…"

"I don't talk about it much," Fabian replies. "You, Patricia, and Joy are the only ones who know. Please don't tell anyone else."

"I won't, I promise."

"Everyone here is like my family," Fabian confesses. "I think of them as brothers and sisters. You'll see what I mean eventually. It's hard not to associate those two things together after living here for a while. I love it here. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

"I know I'm really bitter about everything," Eddie mumbles. "I'm sorry. I just…I'm not ready to talk about things yet. When I am, you'll be the first I come to, I promise."

"Take all the time you need." Fabian rises to his feet and pulls off his jacket. He rummages through one of the dresser drawers and pulls out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "I'll be back."

"Hey, where are the others?"

"Nina and Amber are changing, Joy and Mick went on a run, Alfie and Jerome are in the kitchen, and Mara and Patricia stayed back at the school." Fabian doesn't wait for an answer, slipping out the door and closing it behind him.

* * *

"Alright Trixie, we need to talk."

She glares up at Jerome, shaking her head. "I'm trying to do homework, get the hell out."

"You, doing homework? Is the world ending?" Jerome replies. He reaches over and tugs her binder out of her grip, putting it off to the side. "Before you scream at me, listen. We need to talk about Eddie."

"Great," she huffs. "Another person to come in here and tell me I'm too hard on him." She's getting sick of this. She's allowed to dislike Eddie, and she's allowed to express that. He shouldn't get treated like some daffodil just because he's had a shitty past.

"If so many people are telling you that, don't you think it might be true?" Jerome asks. "Don't get me wrong; I'm all for pranks and jokes and shit, but you're really pushing it here, Trix."

"Don't call me that," Patricia says weakly. She blinks, trying to keep tears out her eyes. She just did her eyeliner, she really doesn't want to smudge it have to do it again.

"Come here." Jerome opens his arms and she goes in for a hug immediately. It's strange, letting herself be vulnerable in front of someone. She's not used to it and it's uncomfortable. But Jerome's been with her for almost ten years now, a constant in her life. He's been there through the good times and the bad, a best friend that came into her life when she really needed someone. They've grown up with each other, and because of it, they take care of each other. It isn't something that's even thought about anymore, it just happens. "What's really going on here, Trixie?"

She swallows. "Nothing. Nothing's going on. He's just annoying."

"Nina annoyed you at first too," Jerome says. "But you were never this bad with her. What is it about Eddie that bothers you so much?"

"I dunno," Patricia sighs. "I guess it just sucks. He's had an amazing life with a rich ass family that probably gave him whatever he wanted, and then he comes here and acts all sad and bitter for no fucking reason and it pisses me off. I had to fucking beg and plead my parents to let me come here, and he just waltzes in and acts like the fucking world is against him. It's fucking irritating."

"He hasn't had a perfect life," Jerome tells her. "Where are you even getting that from?"

"Mr. Sweet is his dad. And don't tell me you'd argue with me on the fact that Mr. Sweet's far from poor."

"But Eddie hasn't lived with him until now," Jerome points out. "Up until now, he was in America, probably living with his mum. Do you know for sure that she's just as well-off as Mr. Sweet is?"

"She probably is," Patricia grumbles. "I just…he's an entitled brat and it's not fair. And now I get shit for treating him like he fuckin' deserves to be treated."

"What the fuck has he done to deserve it?" Jerome snaps. "I ran into him yesterday. He missed first period because he had to talk to his dad, and he looked like he'd been crying. It was obvious. He's not entitled, Patricia. You don't know what the hell he's been through. If you actually took the time to find that shit out before judging him and basing your opinion on that, maybe we'd harp on you less."

Patricia shrugs. "He's an entitled American brat, Jerome. They're all like that."

"Then why is Nina one of your best friends?"

"With a few exceptions," Patricia mutters, glaring at him. "Those are technicalities. Doesn't mean Eddie's one."

Jerome rolls his eyes. "I don't know why you're being a fucking stubborn bitch about this, but I'm sick of it. We all are. You don't like Eddie? Fine. No one said you had to. Just stop fucking treating him like shit. You're gonna lose the friends you have if you keep doing it."

* * *

"Hey, uh, Jerome? Can I talk to you?"

Jerome pauses, stepping forward to stand in the doorway of Eddie and Fabian's room. The latter is nowhere to be found, but his bed is neatly made and all his books are arranged on his desk. His uniform is folded on the edge of the bed, and his bag sits just below it. Fabian has always prided himself on being neat. He's organized and he never loses anything, a blessing for someone like Jerome, who often relies on Fabian's innate organization to help with his lack of any.

"What's up, mate?" Jerome crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe.

"I need to talk to someone…about my dad." He spits the last part out in distaste. "Fabian said you'd be the best person to listen."

Jerome nods, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Fabian was right. My dad's the perfect example of how not to parent."

Eddie forces a laugh, taking a seat on his bed. Jerome sits down on Fabian's mattress and looks over at him. "I still can't believe Mr. Sweet's your dad. Damn."

"He's a fuckin' sperm donor," Eddie grunts. "He left when I was six."

Jerome knows from countless talks he's had with Patricia that his emotional reactions to what Eddie's saying aren't wanted. Eddie's coming to him for advice; he's acting as a mock therapist. There's no room for his feelings regarding what Eddie's going to say. That defeats the purpose.

"Did your parents get divorced?"

Eddie nods. "He fuckin' hated my mom. Tried to get out of it as soon as possible. For good reason, though. Just wish he would've taken me with him."

"Your mom got custody?"

"Unfortunately. Nothing could prove she was unfit, and in that case courts always rule in favor of the mom," Eddie replies. "And now my dad wants to make things better, try and actually get to know me, and I don't want any of it. He didn't try when he had the chance, so why does he get to come back into my life when it's convenient for me?"

"I told you my dad's in jail," Jerome replies. "And I…I really don't know what he's like. I don't even know what he did. He's been sending me letters. He wants to see me. Well, he wants me to come see him. But I…I don't know if I can. I don't remember the last time I saw him. It's been so long. I don't know how to talk to him. I barely fuckin' know him."

"Exactly!" Eddie agrees. "How are we expected to go from barely knowing them to a stereotypical father-son relationship? What do they expect from us?"

"Every time I think about seeing him, I feel like I can't breathe. I can't do it. I don't want to. He makes me so uncomfortable. He reminds me of all the shit I missed out on as a child because everyone else had a dad in their life and I didn't."

"At least you had a decent mom," Eddie mumbles.

"If you count the bitch who abandoned me here when I was 5 as a decent mum, sure, you can say that," Jerome replies.

"I'm here because the neighbors called CPS on my mom," Eddie confesses.

Jerome freezes. He isn't supposed to react to anything Eddie's saying, but he can't help this. "Holy fucking shit. I'm so sorry…"

Eddie inhales a shaky breath. "I try to tell myself that I'm better off here and that the hell is over, but I'm in a new place, my dad wants to form a relationship I'm not ready for, and Patricia fucking hates me. Not to mention the PTSD I have from everything. It's a lot. And I have no one to fight for me…not that anyone would back in America, but I'm just so fucking sick of being alone."

"You have me," Jerome says firmly, meeting Eddie's gaze. He definitely understands where Eddie's coming from. Feeling alone, feeling like no one's there to support you or back you up in anything you do is so fucking difficult. Having no one to talk to about your feelings, having to bottle everything up and repress it, that's the most painful thing you can do. He knows the pain all too well. Eddie doesn't deserve any of it. "You have me, and you'll always have me. I'm in your corner. You're not alone, I promise."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Patricia's really not budging, but she'll soon have a change of heart. ;) I'm working on that scene now, actually. It'll possibly be in he next chapter, might end up being chapter nine. Next chapter, Fabian finds out a secret about Eddie, the rest of the house puts an end to Patricia's bitchy attitude, and we might see some Fabina. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you guys for the continued support on this story, it really means a lot.**

 **Trigger warnings - self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, anxiety, panic attacks.**

* * *

Each new day brings a new battle.

He's barely able to drag himself out of bed, too tired to even think about living that day out. It's exhausting. Every day is harder than the last. Every day Patricia's remarks get worse, he gets progressively more suicidal, and more cuts line his already scarred arms. He's not living, just purely existing. He has no substance, no purpose, no reason to live, and the existence that comes with that is something that can only be described as agonizing. It's so fucking hard to get out of bed and face every day of a life he doesn't want to live.

He's spent a lot of time talking to Jerome. The similar lives they have has made him Eddie's best confidant. He's put all his faith into him, and although it is risky, it's given him someone to talk to and allowed him to think before reaching for a blade. Before, it was just the blade with no thought about it, but now, he actually thinks about going to Jerome and talking things out. That option usually doesn't win, but at least it's become an option.

"Eddie, you're about to fall into your breakfast!"

He jumps, almost knocking over his glass of juice. His tired gaze settles on Fabian, who's looking at him in concern. "Sorry, I'm just really tired."

"We were up really late talking last night." Jerome yawns widely and reaches for the pitcher of orange juice.

"Aw, how cute. Having girl talk, were we?"

Eddie groans, as Patricia joins them at the table. It's bad enough that he feels like shit, he doesn't need this from her today. He's barely making it as is.

"Fuck off, Yacker," he mutters, taking a bite of his toast. "No one needs your shit today."

"No one needs you at this school, but here you are."

"That's enough, Patricia," Jerome snaps. "Put a sock in it, why don't you?"

"Is the little baby so weak that he can't even fight his own battles?"

"No, he just has better ways to spend his life than acknowledging the presence of a stupid bitch like you," Eddie retorts. He crams the rest of his toast into his mouth and stands, grabbing his school bag off his chair and swinging it over his body. "I'll see you guys at school."

* * *

"Hey Alfie, can you pass me the orange juice?"

Alfie makes no move to acknowledge her, leaning in to whisper something in Jerome's ear. Patricia waits, hoping he'll do as she asked after he finishes his thought, but Alfie doesn't, acting like nothing has happened.

"Alfie, what the hell? The orange juice?"

Alfie glances up and turns his gaze to the ceiling. "I'm sorry, did you guys hear something? Sounded like the wind. Damn, it's getting louder by the day, isn't it?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Patricia growls.

"We've decided we're done," Nina speaks up. "Done letting you treat Eddie like a piece of shit when he hasn't done anything wrong."

"Doesn't feel so good when you're on the other end, does it?" Mara adds.

Patricia stares at her. Of all people, Mara is the last one she'd ever think of to participate in something like this. She prefers going about things dramatically, not all this sneaky shit.

"Seriously?" She laughs, even though nothing about this is funny. "Joy? What the hell is this?"

"I'm sorry, Patty," Joy says reluctantly. "But you kinda had this coming. And you _do_ deserve it. I don't know what your problem is with Eddie, this bullying has to stop."

"Bullying? I'm not bullying him!"

"Bullying is defined as using strength to intimidate someone and make them feel bad about themselves," Fabian tells her. "You're using your seniority as a student here to intimidate the new kid and make him feel awful. You're bullying him."

* * *

"Hey, you okay?"

A hand closes around his wrist and he can't hide his wince.

Fabian freezes, retracting his hand as if he was burned. Eddie feels his heart start to speed up again; beating so loudly and rapidly he's surprised Fabian can't hear it.

"What did you do?" Fabian asks after a few moments. "Why does your arm hurt?"

"I just slept wrong. It's sore." The excuse is pathetic and he knows it. He used to be so good at this. Coming up with excuses for why his wrist was wrapped or why he was wearing long sleeves or why he didn't want to change with everyone else used to be second nature. He's out of practice. This can't end well.

"Roll up your sleeves."

"Fabian, I-"

"I'm not kidding. Roll them up before I do it for you." Fabian's voice is foreign. His tone is harsh, sharp, almost accusatory. The panic builds. Eddie's surprised he hasn't gone into a full-out panic attack by now. His breathing is rapid and his heart is pounding in his ears.

Not wanting to carry this on any further, he does as told, putting his scarred arms on display for the entire world to see. He's so uncomfortable and self-conscious right now. This is the vulnerable part of him, the weak part, the part that he doesn't make visible if he can help it. He feels violated and exposed and it all just feels wrong. He hates this so much.

He just wishes he had kept it hidden better. If he'd tried harder to keep it under wraps, to keep himself from showing emotion, they wouldn't be in this situation. Fabian wouldn't be looking at him like he'd just told him the worst news of his life and Eddie wouldn't be feeling like his whole world had just collapsed right in front of him. None of this would be happening if it weren't for him not being able to keep his stupid fucking emotions in check. Now Fabian's gonna know and tell the whole house and he's doomed. They'll alienate him; isolate him, making him out to be some freak, just when he was starting to get close to them. Fuck. He's really fucked it up now.

"Shit, Eddie." Eddie freezes. In the couple months that he's known Fabian, he's never heard him swear. He always finds other words to express his thoughts, a quality Eddie definitely does not possess. Hearing him curse is shocking, it means that what he's seeing is so bad that he's resorted to use of expletives.

"When you said something about self-harm, I didn't think you actually meant it…" Fabian stares at the mangled skin, and Eddie watches his gaze drift over every single cut, slash, and scar, to the long one traveling the length of his left forearm.

"I've been doing it for years," Eddie says, in some kind of explanation. "It's a habit. An addiction. Part of the reason I'm so messed up. But don't worry about it, it's okay."

"How is this okay?" Fabian exclaims. "How is deliberately harming yourself okay? How is cutting your own flesh even remotely okay?"

"It helps," Eddie mumbles. "I know you won't understand, but it just…does, okay? I don't know how else to put it. It helps me."

"There are other ways to cope," Fabian tells him. He turns, stepping over to Eddie's open duffel bag, and begins riffling through the contents.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"

"You have blades stashed somewhere around here, don't you?" Fabian says. "Those cuts look too clean to have been made by scissors. And none of Trudy's knives are missing. So you must have something around here."

He doesn't give Eddie a chance to fight back. Instead, Eddie perches on his bed and watches, as Fabian unearths blade after blade, his facial expression growing sadder as he progresses. When he finally amasses all of them, he wraps them in a t-shirt and picks up the ends.

"I'm going to go get rid of this and get Trudy's first aid kit, and then we're going to talk."

* * *

"Can I hug you?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, but nods all the same, opening his arms. The layer of bandages and gauze feels foreign, but he knows it's all with good intention. Fabian hugs him tightly, and Eddie relaxes into it. He hasn't had something like this in a long time. He's almost forgotten how good it feels.

Fabian grabs his hand and pulls out of the hug, and Eddie glances down at their clasped fingers. "Please, um, don't tell anyone? I know you're worried but I don't want the whole house knowing…"

"If you try to stop," Fabian negotiates. When he sees Eddie's confused expression, he sighs. "I'm no idiot. I know it's hard to break a habit like this. I know it won't be easy for you to stop, and you may end up relapsing. I don't want you to promise not to ever do it again, because breaking that promise will make you feel worse about yourself. So just promise me you'll try, okay?"

"I promise," Eddie replies. "Thanks, um, for understanding. Not many other people have."

"You don't deserve this," Fabian tells him. "You don't deserve to hurt yourself like this. I know it'll take a while for you to get over some things, and I know your problems are too big to fix in a day, but you've got me, and I'm gonna do whatever I can to help."

Eddie feels a lump building in his throat. He doesn't deserve this. He deserves anything but this. He doesn't deserve Fabian's concern or care; he's not worthy of it, he hasn't done anything to earn it. He's a stupid fucking freak that can't go a day without slicing into his skin. Nothing more.

* * *

"You need to tell her."

Fabian looks up at Joy over the screen of his laptop and raises an eyebrow. "Tell who what?"

"Tell Nina about what happened to you before you came here."

He feels his body go rigid as she finishes her sentence, and he regrets eating as much as he did at dinner. Nausea swirls at the pit of his stomach as he realizes what she's talking about.

"What, um, what do you mean?"

Joy steals a glance at Eddie. He's got his earbuds in and is furiously writing in a notebook that's resting on his bent knees. "Can he hear us?"

Fabian shakes his head. "His music's too loud for that. I don't even think he realizes you're here. He hasn't looked up in almost ten minutes."

"You need to talk to Nina," Joy repeats. "I've been watching you the past couple days, and every time Patricia's said anything to Eddie, you've flinched or tensed up or got this weird look in your eyes and I can tell Nina's wondering what the hell is going on. You need to tell her."

"I…I didn't know I was doing that…"

"It's involuntary," Joy replies. "You aren't consciously doing it. It's a knee-jerk reaction. But it's really important for her to know. I don't know if you guys have exchanged the L word yet, but it's obvious that she cares about you a lot, and she deserves to know. After all, she's told you a lot about her past, hasn't she?"

"Where are you getting this?" Fabian asks shakily. "This is so sudden."

She shrugs. "I just…I remember how good it felt to tell Mick everything, from how I have bad days to how I self-harmed a bit-"

"Wait, _what_?" Fabian exclaims. He shoves his computer off his thighs and crosses his legs, staring at her. "You _what_?"

Joy sighs, pulling back her left sleeve. A bunch of tiny white scars line her wrist, almost blending into her skin tone. He wouldn't have known if she hadn't pointed them out. There aren't very many, and definitely not as many as he saw on Eddie's wrists, but they're there. "I started after I realized you and I would never work out, after you picked Nina."

"Joy, I-"

"It's okay." She smiles at him, a genuine, bright smile that he's grown to love seeing. "I'm glad you chose her. I was never really in love with you. I confused our closeness as feelings of romance when they weren't. You're my brother, and that's all. But that's kinda how Mick and I hit it off. I started going on runs with him because I thought the exercise would help, and we talked a lot. We bonded over how similar our situations were, since you had picked Nina over me and Mara had picked Jerome over him. And as we talked, as months passed, I realized who I was really falling for."

He stretches forward and pulls her into a tight hug. There's a lump in his throat and he can feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes. She was cutting. Because of _him._ She's said it wasn't his fault but he's not sure he really believes that.

"Don't blame yourself," Joy continues, after they pull away from each other. "That's not why I'm telling you this. Mick understands me. He's the only person that really truly does. And that's because we're so open with each other. There's nothing about him I don't know, and vice versa. And I feel like I fall more and more in love with him every day. We don't have any more secrets to keep from each other, but we still go running every day and talk about our feelings and tell each other things no one else knows. It's so nice. It makes my day, every day. And I want you to have that, with Nina."

"It's not that easy…" Fabian trails off and shakes his head. "I don't know how to tell her. I don't know what to say. And I don't think she needs any of my baggage, Joy. We're in a good place right now. I don't want to ruin it."

"If her opinion of you changes based on you telling her this, then I'm sorry Fabes, but she doesn't deserve you," Joy replies. "But she doesn't seem like the kind of person to have that change in heart. She really cares about you, Fabian. And you really care about her, don't you?"

"Yeah…"

"Then trust her enough to tell her. It'll make you feel so much better. And you'll have someone to talk to about these things, not that I won't be there, but you'd much rather talk to Nina, wouldn't you?"

"I, um, I-"

"It's okay," Joy repeats. "I'd rather talk to Mick about most things. Don't feel bad about admitting that."

"When'd you get so wise?" He mumbles, pulling her in for another hug. "Thank you."

"I love you, Fabes," Joy murmurs. "I just want you to be happy. I don't want you suffering in silence like I did."

"Love you too," Fabian replies. He glances over at Eddie, still absorbed in what he's writing. "Joy, um…can you talk to Patricia? Please."

Joy sighs. "She won't listen to me. She won't listen to anyone. Jerome didn't have much luck either."

"Why's she so stubborn? I've never seen her act like this."

"Eddie is the first person to fight back," Joy explains. "The first person to oppose her. She's never had something like that before. I guess that's what's really getting to her. Him not giving in to her is making her shitty comments worse. She wants to get under his skin."

"She already has," Fabian mumbles under his breath.

"What?"

"He's gonna hate me for this." Fabian leans in to whisper in her ear, knowing Eddie won't hear him either way but just wanting to take the extra precaution. "He's a self-harmer."

Joy's facial expression doesn't change. In fact, she nods carefully, sneaking another glance at the other side of the room. "I thought so."

"You knew? How?"

"He's been paranoid about his sleeves for the past two days," Joy replies. "For someone like you, it may not have seemed like much, but to me, someone who's done it before, I could tell he was trying to hide cuts."

"Don't say anything to him," Fabian says tightly. "He'd kill me if he knew I told."

* * *

 **Thoughts? This chapter wasn't meant to be so long...and then Fabian and Joy's conversation somehow become 1,000+ words. I'm sure you guys aren't bothered by it, though. I meant to have the Fabina in this chapter, but the scene made it too long, so it's the first scene of next chapter, which actually, is already almost done. I just have to write the last scene. Here's a hint, Fabian finally talks to Nina, Amfie, Jara, and Eddie kinda has...a breakdown. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter. ;)**

 **Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews last chapter, words can't express how happy I was to read them. This chapter...the last two scenes are what I built the whole story around, actually. I've had the idea from the beginning, and I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Trigger warning - self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, child abuse, anxiety, and panic attacks.**

* * *

"Can I talk to you?"

Nina looks up at Fabian and immediately knows something is wrong. He's pale and she can see him shaking, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

She stands, shutting the lid of her laptop, and moves to his side, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "You okay? You look sick."

He nods, glancing over to the other side of the room. "Amber, you mind?"

"I'm gonna go find Alfie." Amber excuses herself quickly, closing the door behind her. Nina sits down on the edge of her bed and pats the space on the mattress next to her.

"Come, sit. What did you wanna talk about? You look really bad, Fabian…"

"I was bullied," Fabian says in a rush. Preliminary shock aside, Nina watches him grimace, most likely at how quickly his words came out. "Like, a lot. It got really bad, and that's what pushed my parents to pull me out of public schooling and send me here."

Nina says nothing for a few moments, letting the power of the words really hit her. She looks him over, noticing how badly he's shaking, how pale he is, how she can see that his eyes are misty with threatening tears. He's obviously very uncomfortable, and telling her something this personal couldn't have been easy. Her heart hurts for him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, grabbing his hand and squeezing tightly. "You didn't deserve that. I'm so sorry it happened to you."

"I thought I was over it," Fabian continues. "But I guess I just…Patricia's comments have really got me on edge, and I don't know how to handle things. She's not even directing them at me, but some of the things she says are reminiscent of things people have said to me, and it brings back some horrible memories."

The strength he was using to hold back tears wavers, and a lone droplet falls down his cheek. She's quick to kiss him, to kiss it away and press herself close to him. He needs to get this off his chest, and as much as it hurts her to see him in pain, once he does, he'll feel so much better.

"And Eddie's…he's got a lot of baggage," Fabian mumbles. "And he's confiding in me and that's great but it's so much and it's a lot to handle and I'm not allowed to tell anyone else and I just don't know what to do."

"Breathe," she tells him. "You need to breathe. You're okay, I promise." His chest expands and contracts and she feels it from how close she is to him, and then she feels him start to finally calm down. "Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy. But I'm here for you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you," Fabian breathes, freezing as soon as he says it. "Shit. That was too soon, I, um, I'm sorry, please don't get scared, I-"

"I love you too," she murmurs. Turning her head, she meets his lips in a kiss, wrapping her arms around her neck. He winds his arms around her waist and manages to lift her onto his lap without breaking the kiss. When they do finally come up for air, she rests her forehead against his and smiles. "I love you so much."

* * *

"So Fabina are either talking or making out, probably both."

Amber slumps onto Alfie's bed, squealing as she does so. "Alfie! What the hell is this?" She holds up the whoopee cushion, glaring at her boyfriend.

He bursts into a fit of giggles, reaching over and plucking it out of her fingers. "Sorry love, Jerome and I ordered some stuff from this website that sells shit like this, and we're trying to figure out how to use it."

"I have no part in this," Mara says from the other side of the room, not looking up from her book. "And I should also say that I don't condone it. It's so silly."

"It's fun!" Jerome protests, turning around in his chair and facing her. He leans forward and tilts her chin up, kissing her chastely. "You should have a little more fun, babe. Stop reading all the time."

"And you should have a little less fun, and _start_ reading more," Mara mutters. "Unless you want your next joke to be you ever getting straight A's."

"Dissed by his own girlfriend!" Alfie exclaims, laughing. "Sucks to be you!"

"Alfie, I'm bored! I came in here so you and I could do something!"

"You really wanna do something with Jerome and Mara here?"

"It's just kissing," Amber says innocently, pulling Alfie close and pressing her lips to his. "It's not like we're doing anything wrong."

"You're assaulting my eyes, _that_ is what you're doing wrong," Jerome mutters. "Are Joy and Patricia in your room, babe?"

"I know Patricia is," Mara replies. "Joy's probably with Mick in the common room."

"Damn," Jerome swears. "Don't really wanna deal with Patricia right now."

"Her shit really has been getting old," Amber comments, pulling away from Alfie. "I mean, Eddie seems nice. Quiet, no taste, and kinda weird, but he seems nice."

"He's amazing," Jerome says. "He made me promise not to tell anyone what we've talked about, so I won't, but guys, he's not what he seems, and he's so far from what Patricia makes him out to be."

"Something about him screams anxiety, though," Mara points out. "He's nervous and shaky and he just looks really uncomfortable when he's in certain situations."

"He really doesn't want me to say anything," Jerome says regretfully. "I'd tell you if I could, but I don't want to betray his trust. He doesn't put it in many people, and he's been betrayed enough in his life."

"I dunno why Patricia hates him so much," Amber replies. "I'd think she'd love him. They both have that rebellious gothy emo look going on, with the black and the dark music and everything. I thought she'd be happy at having someone else like her in the house."

Alfie sighs. "Sometimes she just goes out of her way to make things difficult."

* * *

Eddie glances over at the other side of the room, watching Fabian carefully. Nina's sneaked into their room tonight, and as Victor doesn't care enough to check and make sure every single one of them is in their beds, she's probably going to get away with it. She and Fabian are curled together, her head buried in his chest and his arm draped around her waist, sleeping peacefully.

Fabian asked if she could stay, and obviously, he was fine with it. He likes Nina, a lot. She's really sweet and down to earth, and she's a good confidant to talk American things with. Her love for Fabian and their relationship is an added plus – Eddie's happy that Fabian is happy.

He reaches for his phone and hits the play button, closing his eyes and relaxing into his pillows as Gerard Way's voice fills his ears. He focuses on that, drifting off into sleep almost immediately.

 _"_ _You worthless piece of shit!_ "

 _Slap._

 _"_ _I don't want to see your face again, you hear me?"_

 _Kick._

 _"_ _Useless fucking child, can't do anything right."_

 _Another kick is aimed at his torso and he clutches at his abdomen, curling up in pain as his stepfather walks away. Tears are leaking from his eyes and streaming down his cheeks, and the pungent odor of blood is suffocating._

 _"_ _Why did you have to make him angry?" His mother looms over him, her expression one of pure rage. "We were having such a nice evening and then you go and ruin it!" She grabs him by the collar and forces him to look at her. He can barely hold his head up, and she huffs, slapping him._

 _"_ _M-Mom," he coughs, choking. "Please. I'm s-sorry."_

 _She releases him and lets his body slam against the wall, watching as he slumps downward like a ragdoll. "Sorry isn't good enough, Eddie. Not for useless little boys like you."_

He shoots up in bed, panting and sweating. An arm is wrapped around his abdomen, the phantom pain still shaking him to his core. It takes him a minute to realize where he is, and he only tunes back into reality after seeing Fabian and Nina sleeping soundly next to him. The clock next to his bed says 11:34 – he's only been asleep for an hour, barely that.

He can't breathe.

He feels like his throat is closing up, like his lungs have forgotten how to work. He's sweating and shaking, his heart racing and thudding loudly in his chest. He can barely form coherent thoughts with how fast his mind is going, all memories of things they've said to him.

" _Useless piece of shit."_

 _"_ _Fucking waste of space."_

 _"_ _You can't do anything right, can you?"_

 _"_ _I wish you were never born."_

 _"_ _I wish I'd aborted you when I had the chance."_

He can't breathe.

He stumbles to his feet, almost falling flat on his face, and almost falls to his knees in front of his duffel bag. It's only then he remembers that Fabian took his blades. He took every single one, along with all the scissors and pencil sharpeners, and put them somewhere Eddie wouldn't be able to get to them.

 _Fuck_.

A tear slips down his cheek as he sits back on his ass, squeezing his eyes shut. He needs to cut. He _needs_ it. It's pathetic and he's fucking weak as shit, but he needs to do it or he'll never calm down.

It's then that he remembers that there are knives in the kitchen.

Trudy and Victor are asleep, and assuming everyone is in their bedrooms, there should be no one around.

He stands so quickly it makes him dizzy, and almost trips making his way out of the room. He's thanking god his room is downstairs, because the thought of climbing stairs amidst a panic attack is just asking for trouble.

He turns on one light, a dim one in the kitchen, hoping not to draw too much attention to himself, and grabs one of the sharpest knives out of the block on the counter. Rolling up his sleeve, he presses it against his skin, the sharp edge cutting through almost instantly.

He drags it across his arm and breathes, watching the blood well out of the wound with tears still running down his cheeks.

* * *

She hears something from downstairs, alert almost immediately.

Insomnia's a bitch and the reason she doesn't get much sleep most nights, so being up at almost midnight when both her roommates are sound asleep is normal. She usually uses this time to listen to music and draw, since no one's awake to bother her. It's usually the most peaceful thing ever, and she looks forward to it. However, tonight is different. She can hear someone moving around downstairs, and it's really making her uneasy.

She climbs out of bed and slips out of her bedroom, padding down the stairs and standing at the entrance to the kitchen. What she sees makes her stomach drop to her feet.

Eddie is standing against the island with a knife to his wrist. Tears are streaking his cheeks as he stares down at his bloody arm. He squeezes his eyes shut as he drags the knife across his forearm, wincing. "Fuck." The words are quiet but she can still hear them. She watches as he reaches for some paper towels to press to his wounds, setting the knife down on the counter. It gleams in the dim light, the crimson stains sparking.

The nausea in her stomach grows as she realizes how much of his blood is on the knife, and therefore how much he must've lost. She knows that the right thing to do is to say something, to confront him, to make him aware of how dangerous this is and how perilous he's being, but she doesn't.

She looks down at her own arm and traces the faint white scars, sighing. She's been in his place before. She knows how it feels. If she was in his situation right now and someone came and confronted her about what she was doing, she would've worked herself into a proper panic attack. Although she doesn't like Eddie, it's clear that he's not mentally stable at the moment – a panic attack is the last thing he needs.

A part of her can't help but think he's doing it for attention, but the rational part of her pushes those thoughts away quickly. He wouldn't be doing it late at night when no one's around if he was, and he wouldn't have been desperate enough to use a kitchen knife if he was just trying to get attention. Those cuts are real, deep wounds that he's clearly not experiencing for the first time. His face shows no pain, only desolation, as he reaches for the tap and runs his arm under water.

She finally gets it. What Joy was trying to tell her, what Jerome was warning her of, everything. She understands why the house was isolating her, why they were about to cut ties with her, all of it. It finally makes sense. She was going way too far, pushing him to unimaginable measures, and for what? To get a rise out of him? To see how much it would take to break him? She doesn't know what the point was. It was just a vicious cycle of her pushing him too far without even realizing it. Now that she does, her heart is sinking and there are tears burning at the corners of her eyes because _fuck_. She really messed up.

Eddie turns around, and she shoves her body against the wall, hopefully completely out of his line of sight. It does give her a good look at his face, and that shatters her heart even more. His eyes are bloodshot and his whole face is red from all the crying. His cheeks are tearstained and his hair is messy. He looks like he's been through hell, and it makes her feel even worse about herself.

She knows how bad it feels to get to the point of cutting. She knows how bad your mental state has to be to rely on physical pain for relief. That was how she got through the days she felt inferior, the days Piper was the better twin, the days she just felt like second best, living completely in her sister's shadow. Their relationship is a lot better now, and she doesn't cut anymore, but the memories are still fresh, like reopening a raw wound, and it's like a punch in the stomach to realize she was causing Eddie to feel the same things.

She's horrible.

* * *

 **Thoughts? If you hate Eddie's mom and stepdad now, I can't imagine what you'll think of them next chapter. ;) In addition to that, Patricia's on the path to fix things with Eddie, but he's not in the mood to hear it, not to mention the argument he has with his dad at the end. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm not sure how many fans I'm gonna have after this chapter.**

 **Trigger warnings - self-harm, suicidal thoughts, abuse, rape, panic attacks, depression, and anxiety.**

* * *

"Fabian! I need to talk to you!"

Fabian stops in his tracks and turns to look at her, silent for a few moments. He glances over at the common room, and Patricia sees Nina watching them intently, patting a spot on the couch for him to sit down next to her.

"About what?"

"It's important." She doesn't answer his question because she doesn't want the rest of the house to hear it, but hopes that the urgency in her tone will convey to him exactly how important this conversation is. Fabian is Eddie's roommate; he's probably told him the most. It shouldn't be hard to get information out of him.

"I'll be there in a minute," Fabian tells Nina. He steps over to Patricia and crosses his arms over his chest. This has to be bad, if _Fabian_ is glaring at her like he wishes she'd just disappear. "You have five minutes. What is it?"

"Can we go into your room?" She turns her gaze to the floor, not wanting to look at him and see the disappointment in his eyes. She knows he's disappointed in her. She's disappointed in herself. She's ready to fix things; it's just a matter of whether she can.

Fabian heaves a heavy sigh and nods, moving in front of her and stopping in front of his door. He cracks it open and looks inside, before opening it fully. Patricia knows he was making sure Eddie isn't in there. Because she's become such a fucking danger that it's a problem if they're in the same room together. She steps into the room and looks around, focusing on Eddie's half of the room because it's something she hasn't seen before.

His bedspread is black and so are his sheets and pillowcases. Band posters cover the walls; My Chemical Romance, Avenged Sevenfold, Bring Me the Horizon, and a few more that she also loves. He has great music taste. There's an open duffel bag at the foot of his bed, clothes spilling out of it, and a pile of books on his desk, papers sticking out of the sides. It's messy and disorganized but so unbelievably _Eddie_.

"Is he okay?" It's an innocent question, although it probably seems loaded given her attitude toward Eddie in the past few weeks.

"What do you mean?"

"Is he like, depressed, or something? What's wrong with him? I know there's something you guys aren't telling me."

"Perhaps that's because you're going to use it against him," Fabian mutters. "You've done that with just about anything else."

"I'm trying to change," she replies, looking down at her shoes. "I know I've fucked up, but I want a chance to make things right."

"I don't know how well that'll go, Patricia," Fabian replies. "You've messed things up almost irreparably. I don't think Eddie wants to mend things with you."

"You don't know that."

"He doesn't, but I do."

Eddie appears in the doorway of the room, headphones around his neck, glaring at her. He's got his trademark leatherjacket on, and although Patricia assumes it's partly so he can keep up his rebel persona, most of the reason he's wearing it is to hide the cuts he made last night.

"I don't want to fix things," Eddie mutters, biting the words. The expression on his face is murderous. "I don't want to be friends with you. Take your pathetic sorry bullshit somewhere else, because you're too fucking late. Now get the hell out of my room."

* * *

"Joy?"

Patricia stands at the entrance to the common room, her heart racing. The only two people not there are Eddie and Fabian. Everyone else is looking up at her, faces a mix of confusion, anger, and disgust. She knows she fucked up. She knows that she's probably messed things up to the point of no return. But she wants to change that – she doesn't want the entire house hating her anymore. She doesn't want _Eddie_ hating her anymore, even though she's given him countless reasons to.

"What is it, Patricia?" Joy's voice is void of emotion and monotone. It only serves to make Patricia's heart ache more. Her best friend can't even stand her. What the hell has she done? How did she become such a heartless monster? There's no justification or explanation for why she did what she did, although she wishes there was. She wishes there was a way to explain it, she wishes she had a _reason_ for what she did besides Eddie being from America.

Patricia catches Joy's eye and lifts her wrist slightly. She hopes that the subtle hint is enough. This isn't a secret she wants the whole house to know.

Joy leans in and kisses Mick's cheek, before standing and walking over to her. She glances down at her wrist. "Did you…?"

"Come upstairs, please," Patricia begs. "Please. I need someone to talk to. Don't shut me out. I need someone on my side."

"I'm not on your side," Joy says quickly. "I'm not going to defend you because you're my best friend, that's not right. I'll listen to you, but I'm still on Eddie's side."

That's better than nothing. Patricia leads the way up to their room, forcing herself to accept that Joy won't be singing her praises any time soon. They need to work up to that.

"What's going on?" Joy asks, curling onto her bed. "Did you cut again?"

"No," Patricia replies. "But I saw Eddie doing it."

Joy stiffens, more alert. She doesn't look shocked or surprised though, and that's a surprise to Patricia. She didn't think Joy knew. What if the whole house knew and she didn't? What if that's why they were being so nice to Eddie, why they were so harsh on her? She was meant to be told and she wasn't and because she didn't get the memo, she was horrible to him. It's all making sense now.

"It's not hard to tell, Patty," Joy says. "That he cuts. You must've seen the signs. It's one of the reasons I couldn't understand why you were so horrible to him. You must've figured out that he was suffering."

"I didn't," she replies regretfully. "I was too blinded with rage, and I don't even know why. It doesn't make sense."

"You're right, it doesn't," Joy tells her. "I still don't get why you had to destroy his self-esteem to raise yours."

"When you put it like that you make me sound horrible!"

"In this situation, you were!" Joy exclaims. "He had panic attacks and mental breakdowns and you did that to him for what? Because his background bothered you? He can't help being American, and he definitely can't help being Mr. Sweet's son!"

"I know," Patricia replies sullenly. "I know, okay? I fucked up. I just wanna make it right, but Eddie doesn't want to hear it."

"I don't blame him," Joy mutters. "You don't deserve his forgiveness."

"Whose side are you on?"

"His," Joy says firmly. "I'll help you figure out a way to apologize and get him to talk to you, but at the end of the day, I'm on his side. He didn't deserve this, Patricia."

"I'm worried," Patricia confesses. "I saw him cutting last night and I'm really worried. Like, is he okay? Fabian's a brick wall."

"Would you have liked it if I'd told the whole house about your problems last year?"

"No, but-"

"Exactly. He doesn't want Fabian telling everyone, and you need to respect that. Start by learning to respect _him_ , or this battle you're fighting for his forgiveness won't go anywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"This passive-aggressive thing you do," Joy points out. "Where you talk about something shitty you've done to someone, and then make up some reason they deserved it so what you did doesn't seem as bad. You're in the wrong and he's in the right."

"You're relentless, aren't you?"

Joy shrugs. "You wanted my help. This is what comes with it. You get a constant reminder of how exactly you fucked up and what exactly goes into making it better. And trust me, it's not going to be easy fixing things."

* * *

"Eddie, your father wants to see you during first period."

Eddie groans, as Trudy steps out of the doorway, shutting the door behind her. "I don't wanna go have an awkward conversation him, fuck that."

Fabian pulls his grey sweater over his head and looks over his shoulder at Eddie. "I'm sure he just wants to see how you're doing. I mean, it's been a couple months since you got here and you've had the time to adjust, so he just wants to check up on you."

"I haven't had a father in ten years, what the hell makes him think I need one now?" Eddie grumbles, pulling on his blazer. "I don't need him. I've survived without him for this long, I think I can go two more years without his meddling."

"He's just trying to make things right."

"He's ten years too late."

"At least he's trying at all though, right?" Fabian asks. "He could've not bothered. You could've gone to a group home for two years."

Eddie shudders. "The day I spent in there was enough."

"You were only there for a day?"

"Would've been a week, but I tried to kill myself and ended up in the hospital instead."

Fabian freezes, blazer half on, and stares at him. "You _what_?"

Eddie chuckles, although nothing is funny. He rolls up one of the sleeves of his blazer and points out a long white scar. "It wouldn't have worked. Someone found me in time, and blood loss is one of the hardest ways to die because it takes so long and you're usually found by then. I had just been taken out of my mom's house and she and my stepdad had been arrested and everything was just too much."

"Fuck," Fabian swears, sitting down next to him. Eddie stares at him, not expecting the use of that expletive. "You…you can't do that, ever again." He lets his fingers travel the length of the scar on Eddie's arm, barely grazing the skin. "Please. You don't need to. You have other options. I'm here, if you need to talk. Just please, don't try and kill yourself again."

Eddie nods, but he knows that's not going to hold true. The suicidal thoughts have been particularly bad recently, and it's hard to _stop_ thinking of how much he wants to kill himself. It's not like a switch he can just flip off when it's convenient for him. The thoughts are there, all the time, and they're relentless.

"I really don't want to go see my dad," Eddie sighs, closing his eyes. "I hate talking to him. It's awkward and weird and uncomfortable and I know he's trying but he waited too long and now things are just too much."

"It'll be over really soon," Fabian encourages. "And today's Friday. We have the weekend to ourselves."

"That's the only thing getting me through all this."

* * *

Eddie slumps down in the chair in front of Mr. Sweet's desk, glaring at his father. "Say what you have to say so I can get out of here. I'm not in the mood for this."

"Edison, I-"

"Eddie," Eddie mutters. "I hate my full name. You know that."

"I was the one who chose it," Mr. Sweet replies. "I'd wanted to name you that from the beginning. It reminded me so much of-"

"Okay, we could sit here forever and you could tell me why the sky is blue and why grass is green, but it wouldn't get us anywhere. I don't care what you have to say. I don't care what you think of me. I don't care about any of it."

"I'm trying," Mr. Sweet says. "You need to try too. That's the only way this will work."

"What if I don't want it to?" Eddie shoots back. "What if I'm not interested in making this work? I don't want a relationship with you! I don't want to make things better between us! You don't have to feel guilty about it because I don't fucking want to do any of this! So can you just leave me alone for the next two years until I'm a legal adult when we won't have to do any of this?"

"Watch your language, first of all," Mr. Sweet replies sternly. "And second, I want to try and make this work, Edison. I want to know you. I want to take what little time I have left to be your father. I don't care if you don't want that, I've missed out on far too long for me to sacrifice the next two years."

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?"

"I screwed up!" Mr. Sweet yells. "I screwed up and I take full ownership of that! But here I am, trying to make things better, and you won't even entertain it!"

"Because you left me with a woman who let her fucking husband rape me for years," Eddie growls. "I don't have any sympathy for you."

* * *

 **So...how right was I? All will be explained in time, I promise. Next chapter, the aftermath of this (Eddie definitely wasn't ready to blurt that secret out), and Patricia and Eddie have a very sticky situation on their hands. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for the reviews last chapter, I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this.**

 **As for the guest reviewer who wants longer chapters, I'm a high school senior with a lot of college applications on my plate at the moment, but I'll try my best.**

 **Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, suicide, anxiety, panic attacks.**

* * *

He closes the door to his father's office and leans against the wall, sliding down to the floor and bringing his knees to his chest. He didn't realize he was going to say that until it came out of his mouth. It wasn't planned – he hadn't even thought about it until he said it. It's a fresh wound, raw and still bleeding, and he doesn't know why he thought reopening it would be a good idea.

His heart is racing and his head is pounding. He's shaky and he can't see straight – everything is a blur. Nothing feels right. He buries his head in his knees. He wants to disappear. He wants to wake up from this nightmare, because this cannot possibly be his life. Having a panic attack outside his father's office because a conversation got too out of hand. This cannot be his life.

He didn't want his father to ever find out. He wanted to keep that detail a secret locked within, something that no one would ever find out about. It's so fucking embarrassing and disgusting and the thought of it makes him feel sick. It doesn't feel real. It's like a story he's making up to get sympathy. His stepfather couldn't have been that twisted, there's no way.

Those are the thoughts that race through his head on a daily basis, predictions of reactions if people were to find out what actually happened. Boys can't get raped. And why in the name of all that is good in the world would his stepfather do something like that? If he married his mother, he clearly cares about Eddie. There's no way he could've possibly done it. He's just making it up because he's not happy about the status quo.

He inhales and sucks in air too quickly, resulting in painful coughs as he tries to get his breath back. Using the last bit of strength he has, he struggles to his feet and staggers to the doors of the school. He's going to get a lot of shit for ditching, but he physically and mentally can't imagine getting through a school day. He's too much of a mess for that. His father is going to have to accept it.

* * *

"I seriously can't believe you and Eddie got paired for this Chem project," Joy says, as they walk out of the classroom. "I can't believe his dad would let that happen."

"Sweetie looked out of it all period," Patricia replied. "And it's not like we got to pick. If we had, I wouldn't have picked him."

"Of course you wouldn't have."

"Why would he want to work with me?" Patricia asks. "I don't want to make him uncomfortable."

"You've had no problem with it since he got here, why the sudden change?"

Patricia winces. She knows she deserves every single remark Joy is making, but that doesn't make them hurt any less. Every time Joy reminds her of what happened, her heart starts beating quicker and quicker. The anxiety is new. It's not something she's felt before. She's never been shy or anxious – her confidence has always been one of her strong suits. This is new territory for her, new and confusing. With no one else has she felt this level of anxiety, this level of agony after being a bitch to them.

She'd usually just cut her losses and move on, accept the current situation and learn to live with it. But this is different. She wants to make things right with Eddie. He deserves that. He deserves more than that. She doesn't want to be the reason he cuts into his skin one more time or decides that he's no longer worthy of this world and takes the plunge into suicide. She doesn't want to be the reason for that. The mere thought makes her nauseous.

"Patty! Earth to Patricia!"

Joy's voice brings her back to Earth, and she stops for a second and sways, dizzy. The thoughts hit her with such force that they're affecting her ability to think clearly and function properly. It's like she's trapped in a vortex of all the things she's said to Eddie, and she doesn't know how to climb out.

"S-Sorry, I just…" She trails off, shaking her head. "Fuck, Joy. I really fucked up."

Joy sighs, grabbing her arm. "Let's go back to the house and talk."

"We, class, we're going to miss-"

"And you care about missing class because? Come on."

* * *

"Shouldn't you both be at school?"

Patricia freezes at Trudy's words, trying to rack her brain for some kind of excuse, but Joy beats her to it.

"Patricia was having a bad day, we needed to come home and talk about some things," Joy explains. Trudy knows about all that went on last year. It was down to telling her, Victor, or Mr. Sweet, and Patricia decided that telling Trudy would be the easiest. She's like a second mother; she probably cares more about Patricia than her own mother does.

Trudy nods. "Of course, sweeties. I'm working on a batch of cookies right now; Eddie came back earlier, he didn't have a good day either. I'll call you when it's ready, alright?"

Patricia's more interested in Eddie and why he came home than anything. He wasn't in Algebra earlier, and he didn't show up for Chemistry, so basically, he didn't come to school at all today. There must be something serious going on for him to ditch both classes and come back to the house.

"Common room or our room?"

"Let's just sit here," Patricia says, walking over to one of the couches and slumping down on it. "I just…I don't know what to do, Joy. I feel so awful."

"That's where you're wrong," Joy replies. "You don't have time to feel awful. You can do that later. Right now, all you should be focusing on is how to fix things with Eddie. Focus on making things right. If all you want to do is have a pity party for yourself, nothing is going to change."

"I know, but I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this. What if I messed up too bad to do anything?"

"I'll get Fabian to talk to him," Joy offers. "He'll tell Fabian, they've become really close."

"What if he doesn't?"

"We try something else. You two are working on this project together, right? You have to talk for that. Slip a few personal things in, starting with apologies. Profuse apologies. You need to make him understand how sorry you are. And none of that self-deprecating bullshit, okay? Your intention isn't to make him take pity on you. That's the opposite of what you want."

Just as Joy finishes speaking, the door to Fabian and Eddie's room opens and Eddie steps out, looking _haggard_. He's changed out of uniform, into sweatpants and an old Metallica t-shirt, and his hair is messy. He glances over toward the common room, and Patricia watches his form stiffen when he sees them. She watches his body tense up, and knowing that it's because of her makes tears burn at the corners of her eyes. Fuck.

"Eddie! How are you feeling, love?" Trudy asks. She reaches into the oven and pulls out a tray of cookies, setting them on the island with a bang and letting the oven slam shut. "Any better?"

"Yeah," Eddie replies. "Just tired."

"Hey, um, Eddie?" Patricia speaks up, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice. Her heart is pounding and she can feel herself trembling. She feels cold, like the frigidness is spreading all over her body and she can't do anything about it. "We kinda have a project together in Chem."

He turns to stare at her. "What?"

"You and I are paired together for this project in Chem." When she repeats the words, they feel foreign. Like she's giving an answer in class and it's so far off. She's not lying, but she feels like she is.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I should've known. I should've fuckin' known he'd do something like this."

"Look, I don't want to do this either," she says, standing and turning to look at him. "But we don't have a choice. It's not something we can control. So let's just call a truce and get it over with, okay?"

"A truce? That's what you call when two sides are fighting," Eddie mutters. "You treat me like shit and I don't fight back. That's not truce worthy."

"I'm _sorry_ , okay?" She exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. This is not the way she intended to go about this, but it's happening; there's no going back now. "I'm trying to figure out how to fix things with you! I want to make things right! I fucking _hate_ myself for what I've done, but it's over. I can't change the past."

Eddie walks over into the common room and drops onto the couch beside Joy. "You're right about one thing. We don't have a choice on this project. So I'll do it with you, and then we're back to where we are now."

* * *

He's surprised his act has been so believable. He didn't think he was this good of an actor, but he's pulling it off really well.

Working on a project with Patricia – even hearing those words was enough to send his heart racing and his stomach churning. He can't imagine having to talk to her about atoms and electrons when the only semblance of conversation they've had in the past couple months is her telling him how much she hates him and how unwanted and unneeded he is. He doesn't know how to associate anything but that with her.

The project is fairly simple. Each group is assigned an element, and they have to write an entire research paper about the element, and then make a presentation to teach the rest of the class about it. After every group has presented, there'll be a test on the elements used, and whatever they present on translates directly into notes to study from for the test, so the presentations have to be good.

It's the presentation part that has him freaked out. He's horrible when it comes to presentations. He fucking hates them. His anxiety is way too bad and the idea of talking in front of a room full of people all of whom are staring at him is just terrifying. He stutters and shakes and talks too fast and it's just a mess.

The project is due in two weeks and that may seem like a lot of time but it really isn't. It just means a lot of time spent with Patricia, and although he said no personal shit, he knows that she's going to try and apologize and he's not ready for that. He's not ready to be persuaded to forgive her because he doesn't want to. It's not fair for her to get forgiveness for her mistakes that cost him. He suffered and now she is and it may be sadistic, but he wants her to suffer. She deserves it, for what she did to him.

He pulls up his sleeve and ghosts his fingers over the fresh cuts. They hurt when he brushes over them because of how new they are, but the major pain has dissipated. There's dry blood around them that he didn't feel like cleaning because he didn't care enough. He doesn't like patching himself up afterward. It's like a promise he's going to live and he wishes he could just bleed out without a care in the world.

He's formed connections now. He's close with Fabian and Jerome, not to mention the rest of the house save for Patricia. He has friends. He also has a conscience. People would be upset if he killed himself. He has a reason not to. He hates it. He hates thinking about Fabian's and Jerome's and everyone else's reactions if he were to do it. He should've just gotten it over with when he first got here, before he had the chance to make friends and screw up his chances of going without hurting anyone.

It's not like his father would care. It's not like he would even miss him. Eddie knows that much. He knows that his father is only making an effort because he feels guilty, not because he actually gives a shit. If he cared as much as he claims to, he would've made the effort ten years ago. He would've fought harder for custody. He would've made a bigger deal out of things. He just didn't care enough. He didn't care about anyone but himself, and Eddie was left to suffer the consequences. No fucking wonder he doesn't want to have a relationship with his father. An idiot would understand why.

But clearly, his father is dumber than an idiot.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Next chapter, Jara, and Eddie and Patricia actually get to work on this project, leading to some interesting conversations. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Trigger warnings - self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of cheating, and depression.**

* * *

"Eddie, Jerome asked for you."

Alfie slides into his seat at the dinner table, shooting a glance at him. "He said it was really important, I dunno what it's about though."

Eddie nods, scooting his chair back and rising to his feet. He walks out of the common room and into Jerome, Mick, and Alfie's room uncertainly. He's not sure what Jerome has to say, but from the urgency in Alfie's tone, it can't be good. Most of his and Jerome's conversations revolve around serious things, and this will be no different.

"My father sent another letter." Jerome is sitting on his bed, staring at the wall with his knees brought up to his chest. A piece of paper is lying on his thighs, folded and crumpled. "He wants me to come see him next week."

Eddie knows he's not allowed to react. He's learned that from the past two months of conversation. He sits on the edge of Jerome's bed and plays with a few of the bracelets on his arm. "Do you want to go?"

"No," Jerome whispers, his voice breaking. "I would rather gouge my eyes out than go see him."

"So tell him that."

"I can't face him," Jerome chokes out. "I can't. It's too soon. It's been 11 years but it's still too fucking soon."

"Exactly how I feel about my dad," Eddie hums. "Why don't you tell Mara? She can help you."

"How?"

"She's a lot better at the comfort thing than I am."

"She'll worry."

"That's what girlfriends do, Jerry." Eddie forces a smile. "I've never had one, but from what I've seen, they worry. Nina worries about Fabian, Amber worries about Alfie, Joy worries about Mick, and Mara worries about you. She'll do it whether you tell her or not. What do you have to lose?"

"She might decide my baggage is too much and leave me."

"Mara wouldn't do that," Eddie reassures him. "She's not that type of person. It's scary and it sucks, but she's your girlfriend. She cares about you. Let her be there for you."

"Why does he want to see me anyway? Why couldn't he have just waited two years until I'm eighteen so he'd have no legal obligation making him feel guilty about abandoning his son?"

"Because they're fucking stubborn," Eddie mutters. "My dad's fuckin' insistent on a relationship with me and I don't want any part of it. I try to tell him and he doesn't listen. He doesn't understand."

"They only see things from their point of view." Jerome grabs the piece of paper and unfolds it. "Listen to this: I want to make things up to you. I want to spend the next two years repaying my debt to you. All I want you to do is come see me. I'm sorry I'm in jail and this isn't easier for you. This isn't easier for me. Nothing about this would make it fuckin' easy for me! It wouldn't be easier if he was bloody Mother Teresa!"

Eddie sighs. He grabs the papers from Jerome's hands and smoothes them out, before folding them back up again and putting them on his nightstand. "Don't think about it for now. Just focus on telling Mara. You need to. You can't keep this from her any longer, Jerry. She's starting to get suspicious."

"Do I have a reason to be?"

Eddie freezes. He turns to the door, and there Mara stands, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at Jerome. "Do I have a reason to be suspicious? Are you cheating on me or something?"

Jerome stays silent, just staring at her, and Eddie watches tears well up in her eyes. She blinks, dampness settling on her cheeks. "So that's it. You're cheating on me. You've found someone better, have you?"

"No!" Jerome exclaims, scrambling off the bed. He stands face to face with his girlfriend and reaches for her hand. "I'm not, I promise."

She rips her arm out of his grasp and turns away. "You're just saying that because you're a stupid fucking player that wants to string me along! I'm not having it. We're done, Jerome. Done."

She storms out of the room, and Eddie whips his head around just in time to see Jerome collapse on his bed, burying his head in his arms. "Fuck…"

He says nothing, pushing off the bed and leaving the room, following Mara up the stairs and grabbing her wrist in the middle of the hallway. She turns, trying to get out of his grip, and he loosens it, but positions his body so she can't get away.

"You need to listen to me," he says, looking her in the eye. "Jerome didn't cheat on you."

"I don't wanna hear this, Eddie."

"He didn't!" Eddie insists. "He didn't cheat. He's been trying to tell you something since I got here, and the reason he was keeping it from you is because he thought you were going to break up with him over it!"

"Yeah, and I did. I'm not going to stay with someone who cheats on me." Her voice is cracking, full of tears. He needs to fix this.

"He didn't fucking cheat on you, okay?" Eddie exclaims. "His dad is sending him letters!"

* * *

Mara stares at Eddie, her stomach sinking. "What?"

"My dad's trying to get in touch with me." Jerome appears behind Eddie, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. "He's in jail and he wants me to come see him. He wants a chance to make things right. But every time I think about it my heart starts to race and I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

Eddie steps aside, and Jerome walks up to stand in front of her. "I wanted to tell you. You have to believe that I've been trying. But my dad's a mess and therefore my life is a mess and I just didn't want to drag you into it. I didn't want to burden you with this. You and I have been through so much together, and I just didn't want to ruin our relationship with something shitty again. I'm sorry."

She steps forward and rests a hand on his cheek. "Jerome, I…I had no idea. I'm so sorry for jumping to conclusions. I'm so sorry I ever thought you were cheating on me. I should've trusted you. I should've trusted that you would never do something like that to me."

"I love you," Jerome whispers. He tilts his head and kisses her chastely, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'll leave you guys to it," Eddie says awkwardly. His footsteps thud as he descends down the stairs.

"I would never leave you for something like this," she murmurs. "I love you unconditionally. I don't care what your past is. That doesn't define you. And I'm not dating you because of it. I love you for who you are. If you'd told me earlier, all I would've done was support you, which I'm still going to do."

"I love you so much," Jerome echoes, kissing her again. "Thank you."

She wraps her arms around his neck and he winds his around her waist. When they pull apart for air, she glances at the paper in his hands. "What…what does it say?"

"He wants me to see him. Next week."

She notices the panic in his eyes, how he's started to shake slightly. She notices that his grip on her has tightened, considerably so. It's clear that this is severely affecting him, and she hates that he's suffering. She hates that he's in pain.

"I'll go with you," Mara promises, squeezing him tighter. "You're not alone. I won't let you go by yourself. You have me, and you always will."

Jerome nods, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I'm sorry I didn't listen when you tried," Mara replies. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were cheating on me. I know you'd never."

* * *

"Do you think Victor'll notice if I spend tonight in here?"

Mick shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Joy's cheek. "I doubt it. Nina stayed with Fabian a while ago and he didn't even notice."

"Mara and Jerome are sleeping in your room tonight," Alfie adds, pulling on a shirt. "And I think I'm gonna go join them. Either that or Amber's gonna come down here."

"So it won't be a problem," Joy concludes. She smiles, winding her arms around Mick's neck and yanking him downward to kiss him. "I could get used to this."

"If you two wanna have sex, I'm sleeping in Amber's room tonight," Alfie grumbles. "I don't wanna be kept up _again._ "

"We've never done it, Alfie," Joy informs him. "You've never had to be kept up by us."

"Making out is bad enough," Alfie mutters.

"You and Amber aren't saints, Alfredo," Mick counters. "I can't count how many times I've walked in on you two about to take each other's clothes off. Literally."

"Are you guys arguing about PDA again?" Jerome slips into the room and reaches into one of the drawers containing his clothes.

"I thought you were with Mara tonight."

"I am," Jerome replies. "I just needed to change. I'm going back up there afterward. If not to spend time with her, because I don't want to deal with you assholes."

He grabs a pair of pajama pants and a shirt and disappears. Alfie glances from Mick and Joy to his bed, and shakes his head. "Nope. I'm going to Amber's room. Night, guys."

"Night," Mick replies, as Alfie turns off the light and shuts the door behind him. He gets into his bed, opening his arms, and Joy slides in next to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in his chest. "What'd Patricia want? You guys have started talking again, haven't you?"

"She's trying to make it up to Eddie," Joy sighs. "I don't know if it'll work, though."

"She really fucked up," Mick agrees. "Really feel bad for the dude. But I'm sure they'll work something out."

"He doesn't want to try," Joy tells him. "He just wants it all to end, which I don't blame him for, but it still just sucks. Seeing her upset, I mean. I know I shouldn't sympathize with her, but she's my best friend…"

"You don't have to feel bad about your feelings, Joy," Mick murmurs. "She's your best friend. No matter what she's done, you're always going to feel some kind of loyalty to her, and that's okay."

"I don't know how to help her, though," Joy replies. "I don't know what to say. I don't know how to get Eddie to forgive her."

"They're paired together for that Chem project, aren't they?"

"Yeah, so?"

"They'll be able to talk then."

"What if he doesn't want to? He said that the only words they exchange will be for the project, nothing beyond that."

"Patricia's gonna have to be sneaky about it. Get him to let his guard down before she strikes."

"She's the only one he always has his guard _up_ around."

"And that's something she's going to have to work around," Mick tells her gently. "You can't fix all her problems. You can't fight this battle for her. She messed up, let her fix it."

"I just don't want what happened last year to happen again."

"The part where you were cutting because of her or the part where she relapsed?"

Joy lifts her head and looks at him, tears welling in her eyes. "Mick, I-"

"Joy, you were a _mess_ last year. Because you took on too many of her problems. You threw yourself into helping her, so much so that you forgot to take care of yourself. You put her before yourself in any situation you could. That can't happen again. She's old enough to fight her own battles. You're not her saving grace, not always."

"I know, I just…"

"You have a big heart and I love that about you," Mick murmurs, kissing her head. "But you gotta know when to step back. This isn't your problem. You're not the one who messed up."

"I love you," Joy whispers, her voice cracking. A tear falls down her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"You haven't done anything wrong," Mick assures her, kissing her cheek. "I'm not angry. I'm just worried, love. I worry about you. I can't bear to see you go through what you did last year."

Joy nods shakily, resting her head back on his chest and closing her eyes. Mick smiles, squeezing her tighter and resting his head on top of hers. "I love you."

* * *

 **I know I promised some Eddie/Patricia scenes, but Eddie decided to play counselor for Jerome and Mara, and then the Moy scene had to happen. What I'm trying to do with this story is weave subplots in amidst the main plot, kinda like a TV show. It's more realistic, and I do love all the other characters and can't stand them jut being minor. So we have the Fabina one about Fabian's bullying, the Jara one about Jerome's father, the Amfie one, which I have written but am not gonna tell you guys about yet, and finally, the Moy one, which this last scene delves into. Moy and Peddie are connected, which, they kinda have to be, considering how close Patricia and Joy are. Not only that, but the show kinda portrays Mick as a dumb jock and I wanted to stray away from that, show a more intelligent side of him, because I do believe he's really smart.**

 **I write ahead for this story, and not counting this chapter, I'm around 8k ahead. So next chapter, the long awaited Peddie scenes, Patricia trying to figure her life out, Fabian and Eddie having some real talk, and the introduction of the Amfie subplot. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Trigger warnings - anxiety, depression, traces of child abuse, and suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

"So we have to write a paper and make a presentation."

Patricia pulls a paper from one of her folders, as Eddie sits down at the table next to her. "What do you want to do?"

"We both should do both," Eddie mutters. "No one can do the presentation until the paper is done. What element did we get?"

"Rhodium."

Eddie nods. He pulls out his phone and starts typing, glancing up at her after he hits search. "I'll find some articles, you find some statistics. We'll break it up by paragraph."

"I'm really sorry," Patricia blurts out, before she has time to stop herself. The words are rushed; she spoke so fast she didn't realize what she said. "About everything."

"You don't get to do that," Eddie growls. "You don't get to apologize and feel better. You didn't make me feel better. Why should I make you?"

"What can I do to make this better?"

"Why?" Eddie asks. "Why do you suddenly want to fix things? What the hell's with this sudden change of heart?"

Telling him what she saw would be a bad idea. "I, um…I realized what I was doing and how shitty I was being and it disgusted me. I know I'm a horrible person. I'm not doing this because I want to feel better about myself. I'm doing this because you deserve to know how sorry I am."

Eddie sighs. "Why did you start doing it in the first place? What did I do to you that made you hate me so much?"

"Nothing," she replies miserably. "That's the shitty part. You didn't do anything wrong. I was just angry because I thought you were the typical self-centered American who doesn't care about the rest of the world, whose only tie to British culture was Harry Potter." She takes a deep breath. She doesn't want to continue, but he deserves to know the truth. "And I was also pissed because Mr. Sweet is your dad and because of that you've probably never had a problem with money and you got the chance to come to this school and you were so bitter about it while I had to fucking beg and plead my parents for weeks to get them to send me here."

"I'm not rich," Eddie says immediately. "I'm fuckin' broke as hell, Yacker. My dad has money, but that doesn't mean I do. And even if he wanted to give me some, I wouldn't take it. I lived in a shitty apartment in New York with my mom and stepdad after the divorce and those were the worst ten years of my life. But you assumed all that. You assumed I was a stuck up rich kid. Without even fuckin' getting to know me. I don't know about the rest of this house, but I sure as hell don't want to be friends with someone who assumes things about people before they get to know them."

* * *

"Ugh, why is she here?"

"Hey!" Joy snaps. "Nina's going to help you. If you want to fix things with Eddie, this is how to do it. She knows how he's feeling and she knows how shitty he feels because you did the same thing to her. She'll tell you what works and what doesn't."

Patricia sighs. This was supposed to be between her and Joy, but now it looks like Nina's gonna be in on her journey to mend things with Eddie. Great. "I don't know why I'm even bothering. He said he doesn't want to be friends with me. I apologized. What more is there?"

"You may never be friends with him," Nina agrees. "But you need to show him that he's not as horrible as you've told him he is. I know it doesn't seem like your words have had that much of an impact, but he's internalized them. He won't show it, but he has."

"How bad did I make you feel?" Patricia ventures. She knows Nina has no idea Eddie self-harms, so she wouldn't know how Patricia's words have really affected Eddie. But Patricia knows, and it makes her heart ache.

Nina's gaze travels to the ceiling. "I…you weren't as bad when it came to me. But I wanted to disappear. Everything was new and scary and you weren't making it any better. I don't know what made you change your mind about me, but I remember being so happy about whatever it was for the mere reason that you wouldn't hate me anymore. I shouldn't have let you get away with it, but I did. Eddie isn't."

"Why did you let me get away with it?"

"I guess I just wanted a drama-free term," Nina replies. "And friends I could count on. I was sick of things being complicated. I just wanted everything to be easy, and if that meant forgiving you for being a bitch when you may not have deserved it, I was willing to do it."

"I feel like a horrible person."

"Last year was a really bad year for you," Nina says. "That's part of the reason you were so awful to me. And once I found out, it kinda made sense. But having shit to deal with doesn't give you the right to treat someone like shit. He and I are two very different people."

"I just wanna have a normal conversation with him," Patricia mutters. "But he doesn't want to. And I don't want to force him into anything."

"I'll get Fabian to talk to him," Nina assures her. "I can't promise anything, but he'll try."

* * *

"So, how's your Chem project coming? How's working with Patricia?"

Eddie sighs, flipping his Algebra notebook closed. "I dunno. It's awkward. She keeps trying to apologize even though she knows I don't wanna hear it. So it's either that or complete silence. I can't wait for it to be over."

"I really think you should listen to her," Fabian tells him. "She doesn't apologize very easily. Even if she realizes she's done something wrong, she's not the type of person to try and fix her mistakes."

"I don't want to fix this," Eddie replies. "I just wanna get through the next two years as fast as possible so I can go do what I want with my life without anyone telling me otherwise."

"But you're here for two years," Fabian points out. "So you may as well talk to her. Try and make things up so your existences won't be cold, awkward silences."

"Someone put you up to this, didn't they?" Eddie pulls out his remaining earbud and turns to stare at Fabian, realization hitting him. It's all starting to make sense now. Joy and Patricia are best friends. They've been talking a lot more. And Joy and Fabian are pretty close. She's probably putting him up to this. He's Patricia's messenger. "Fucking hell."

"No," Fabian says softly. "They didn't. Nina asked me to talk to you but she didn't tell me to get you to talk to Patricia. I think you should because I think you two have a lot in common, more than you think you do. And once you get to know the real her, you'll realize that."

"We have nothing in common," Eddie says flatly. "I'm not a rude, bitchy person that doesn't give a shit about anyone but myself. I don't judge people prematurely and use that against them. I've got more sense than that."

"She had a shitty year last year," Fabian tells him. "It doesn't justify anything, but that's why this is a big problem. She had a lot of problems last year and they caused a lot of shifts in her personality and view on the world. Listen, I'm not saying you have to be best friends with her. I'm just saying you should listen to her. Have a real conversation. Hear her side of the story."

"It doesn't make any of this right."

"It's not right," Fabian repeats. "But you've wanted an explanation, you've wanted an answer to your question of why, and this is the only way to get one."

* * *

"Amber?"

"She's upstairs, lovey," Trudy calls from the kitchen. "She said she had a lot of homework to work on."

Alfie nods and thanks Trudy, taking the stairs two at a time and making his way into Nina and Amber's room.

She's sitting on her bed, staring off into space. He can see tearstains on her cheeks, and her bag is thrown across the room, items inside strewn all over the floor. She doesn't acknowledge his presence when he comes in the room. She's just staring at a blank spot on the wall, not moving.

"What happened?" He sits down in front of her and takes her hands in his, bringing them up to his lips. "Why are you crying?"

Amber shakes her head, a sob making its way up her throat. She squeezes her eyes shut, and the look on her face makes Alfie's heart clench with pain. Whatever happened is clearly killing her, and it makes him angry. He hates seeing her in pain. It's not fair and she doesn't deserve it.

"What's wrong?" He repeats, leaning in to kiss her cheek. It's tearstained and he feels the salt on his lips. This is breaking his heart. He's not used to this. He doesn't know how to do it. He's never really had a proper girlfriend before Amber, and therefore his experience in comfort is lacking. He doesn't know if he's even going to be able to make it better.

"My dad called."

"And?" He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to handle something like this. He doesn't want to do something wrong and make Amber feel even worse, but this isn't something instinctual. Some guys can just rely on what they've seen in movies or read in books, but he's not one of those guys. Amber's not a normal girl and he's not a normal guy. Things need to be different.

"My grades are too low. I've gained weight. And I'm anything but the daughter he envisioned."

Alfie's blood boils. That was all he needed to hear. He leans forward and pulls her into a hug, dragging her onto his lap and squeezing her tightly. He presses his lips to her hair and closes his eyes, resting his chin on the top of her head. He doesn't need to say anything. This is enough for them.

"Alfie, I don't know what to do."

"Understand that he's wrong," Alfie says immediately. "You're doing the best you can in school. You got an A on our last math test. You're trying your hardest, and if he can't see that, he's blind. And he shouldn't care what you weigh, as long as you're healthy. Even if you have gained weight, it doesn't matter. It doesn't make you any less beautiful."

"You don't get it." Amber pulls away from him and stares at him, makeup running down her cheeks. "He has this mold I need to fit into, this vision of his daughter that I need to fit, and right now, I don't. He won't let me forget it. He needs me to be perfect. He's done so much for me, let me buy all these expensive clothes and makeup and shoes and all I do in return is disappoint him."

"That's not how this works," Alfie replies. "You shouldn't have to feel like you need to make it up to him if he lets you buy things. He's allowing you to buy them and that's on him. You shouldn't have to feel like you need to be perfect, baby. You're beautiful and you're smart and you're so goddamn talented when it comes to designing and makeup artistry. That's enough. That's more than enough."

"Not for him." Amber's voice cracks on the last word and it breaks his heart. He sighs, scooting forward on her bed and lying down on his side with his head on the pillows. He opens his arms and she curls against him, burying her head in his chest. She's still crying, and he knows it from the wet spots he feels on his shirt.

"I love you," he whispers. He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't know what to do. Love may not be enough, but it's all he knows at this point. He may not know how to help her through this or what to say to make her feel better, but he knows that he loves her and that's enough for him.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Eddie isn't going to be immediately accepting of Patricia's attempts to patch things up. She really did hurt him, and it's not realistic for him to forgive her right away. I know all of you want Peddie scenes, and we'll get there, but I want the buildup to be as realistic as possible. Next chapter, we're looking at a panic attack, and some much needed explanation on Patricia's part. I might squeeze in a scene where Fabian and Eddie talk songwriting and lyrics, but it'll most likely be in the following chapter. But, the more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Because it's Thanksgiving, and I'm so thankful to all of you for reviewing so much, I thought I'd give you an update.**

 **Trigger warnings - panic attacks, anxiety, abuse, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

Patricia is shaking.

It's been a week of working on the project and her anxiety about it has gotten worse and worse. She hates approaching Eddie with things, suggesting things, anything having to do with having a conversation with him is a huge no in her book. She's avoiding him at any cost. She's so tired of being looked at like the devil.

She knows it's her fault. She knows that she put herself in this position. But she's been trying all week to apologize and Eddie just isn't having it. He shuts her down even time she tries, and diverts the conversation back to the project. She's stopped trying. She's stopped talking to him, she's stopped trying to make him see how sorry she is, she's stopped everything.

It isn't worth it, trying so hard when she knows that all Eddie is going to do is shut her down.

But now she's standing outside his and Fabian's room, and she's shaking. They have to talk about the powerpoint and how they're going to split the slides, who's going to say what, all of that. And she just can't take anymore of this. She can't take him looking at her with the distaste and disgust he has been. She can't take the dirty looks she's getting from her housemates. Nina, Joy, and sometimes Fabian are the only people who aren't looking at her like she's killed someone, and she can't stand it.

She's a horrible person and she gets that but this is too much. It's making her want to relapse and she can't tell anyone about it because she knows they'll think she's doing it for attention. For pity. They'll think she's trying to get sympathy because no one is talking to her and she's desperate for attention, even though the reality is they're making her feel so shitty about herself that all she wants to do is cut.

She inhales and exhales a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. The door is still standing in front of her when she opens them, a pathway to what could possibly be one of the most anxiety-ridden moments of her life. She doesn't know how she's going to get through this without having a panic attack, but it's definitely not going to be easy. She knocks on the door, hoping Fabian is also there so he can act as a buffer. It'll be even worse if it's just her and Eddie. That's already going to be awkward, not to mention nerve-wracking and anxiety inducing.

"What do you want?" Eddie opens the door and his facial expression immediately twists into a scowl. Earbuds are hanging around his neck and he's dressed in pajama pants and a Pierce the Veil shirt. "I'm kinda busy."

"We," Her voice breaks and she winces, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "We need to talk about the presentation."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Whatever, Yacker." He steps back and pushes the door open, not waiting for her to come in before he returns to his bed. His computer is sitting open on the mattress, and a notebook is lying next to it.

"How do you want to split the slides?" She hopes that he doesn't notice how badly her voice is shaking. It's bad enough that she's full on trembling; he's probably already realized that.

"Doesn't matter to me."

"I don't…whatever you want to do is fine," she stutters, avoiding his eyes. "For everything."

"Don't pull this pity shit on me now," he groans. "I'm not gonna sit here and feel bad for you just because you messed up. That's on you. We gotta get this project over with and then you and I can go back to coexisting. Just shut up about it for the next week, okay? Jesus fuckin' christ."

"I can't do this." She barely gets the words out, and they come out choked and garbled. Her stomach turns, and her heart speeds up even more. It was already racing to begin with. She wouldn't be surprised if it stopped beating altogether. Maybe that'd be a good thing. It'd save her from the hell this is turning into.

She can't breathe.

Her head is spinning and she feels like she's breathing through a straw. Like her airway is closing and there's nothing she can do about it. She's going to die. There's no question about it. She's going to pass out from lack of air and suffocate and Eddie won't even help her because he doesn't care. Because she doesn't deserve it. She's going to die.

A hand rests on her back and she flinches. "Hey, just relax, okay? You're going to be alright. Just take some deep breaths with me."

She inhales and exhales with him, not comprehending the situation entirely but too exhausted to care. Eddie coaxes her through a few breathing exercises before she focuses on him, finally able to breathe normally.

"Sorry," she whispers hoarsely. "I know you probably think I'm a stupid bitch that's attention seeking and asking for pity. I promise that wasn't what this was."

"This was a panic attack," he says. "I know you didn't fake it, Yacker. Trust me on that. I've had enough of them myself to know that something that looked that real can't have been faked. I don't think you're seeking attention or trying to get pity. You had a panic attack."

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "I've been nervous about talking to you all day. I don't know what to say anymore. I don't know what to do. I know I've really hurt you, and I can't possibly be more sorry, but everyone in the house hates me and so do you and everything's falling apart." She pauses and sighs. "If I wasn't asking for pity before, I sure as hell am now. Sorry. I'll go."

"Don't," Eddie says. He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm still beyond pissed at you. But Fabian said to listen, so I will. I'm gonna try here, Yacker. I'm gonna fuckin' try. Don't make me regret it."

* * *

"I'm not sure what you want me to say."

Eddie shrugs. He reaches for his laptop and pulls it onto his thighs. "You've had shit to say to me all week, haven't you? And I didn't let you. Say that. Let it all out. This may be the only time I do this."

He turns his focus to the screen and continues typing. Not only does he write songs, he also does a little bit of story writing, some fictional stuff. It's not something he does often because he isn't very good at it, but it's a good hobby; prose is nice to relax into when his mind can't formulate lyrics.

"I had a really shitty year last year." Her voice breaks his concentration and it's frustrating. He wants to tell her to get the fuck out so he can focus on his work, but he told her to explain herself and it'd be shitty of him to go back on that. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, forcing himself to stay calm and not explode on her.

"And?"

"I was in a really abusive relationship that started when I was 13 and ended just before I turned 15," Patricia says, her voice dropping to a whisper. He leans forward, almost straining to hear her. "It was awful and I'm not going into the details. But he really fucked me up. I started cutting when I was still with him and I tried to kill myself twice last year. We weren't together for either, but the aftermath was really bad. I don't know why it affected me as much as it did. But last year…I count surviving it as a big fucking accomplishment."

"That really sucks." He doesn't want to feel bad for her, but her story is tugging at his heart. Maybe it's because she sounds on the verge of tears the entire time and her makeup is running in black rivulets down her face. She looks pitiful and he knows she'd hate for him to pity her, but he can't help it. That really fucking sucks for her. She may be a bitch, but abuse is personal to him and he wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"You remind me of him," Patricia admits. He freezes, staring at her. Is she really comparing him to someone who abused her for almost two years? How the fuck does she think that's possible? His mom abused him for ten years. He can't be abusive. He couldn't have done anything to her. And he didn't. The entire claim is bullshit. "He always had a comeback. Always wanted to have the last word. I didn't intimidate him, far from it. He was the first person to really oppose me. And then you come along, and you…" She trails off and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm really sorry."

"I'm not abusive," he whispers, more to himself than her. "I can't be."

"You don't remind me of him because I think you're abusive. I don't," Patricia assures him. "It's your refusal to let me win. You oppose me. You fight me. You don't take anything I say like a punching bag. That's what he used to do. It's not your fault, but…"

"That's stupid," he retorts. He felt sorry for her until she tried to turn this on him. It sounds like a half-assed excuse. She doesn't have a way to justify what she did, so she pulled this out of thin air. He doesn't doubt the abusive relationship part, but using it as a justification has him pissed. "You made me feel so fuckin' worthless because I reminded you of an abusive boyfriend? I'm sorry this happened to you and all, but you don't even _know_ me. How could I possibly be anything like him?"

"You aren't!" She exclaims. "But I'm still really fucked up from everything, so in my mind, aside from you being American and Sweetie's son, you reminded me of him. And everything together just snapped something inside of me. I know this doesn't make sense and it probably won't make things better but I just wanted you to know that. Most of what I said to you I said imagining him in your place."

"But I'm not him," Eddie growls. "And you…" He pauses. He wants to tell her exactly what she did to him but he can't have her knowing he self-harms. Not if he wants to keep his reputation at the house.

"I pushed you to relapse."

He stiffens. A cold sweat begins to wash over him as his heart starts racing again. How the _fuck_ does she know that? Who told her? Fabian couldn't have betrayed him. He fucking couldn't have. How the hell does she know?

"I saw you," Patricia tells him. "That night. It was a little before midnight and you were using one of Trudy's knives. I'm an insomniac so I wasn't asleep. I heard some noises downstairs and wanted to investigate, and I saw the whole thing."

"I, um, I," he stutters. "Fuck." This can't be happening. He was doing so well. He thought he hid it perfectly. He didn't think anyone saw him. He didn't think anyone knew.

"Don't freak out," Patricia says. She rolls up her left sleeve and holds her arm out in front of him. His gaze travels over the hundreds of white scars lining her entire forearm, criss-crossing and going almost past her elbow. "I understand. And that's when it hit me, what I was doing to you. I didn't realize the impact of my words until I saw you…hurting yourself…because of me."

"It wasn't just you." He doesn't know why he's justifying anything. She deserves to feel guilty over all of this. But he cut that night because of a nightmare, and it's not her fault. "I have a lot of shit to work through and what happened that night was part of it."

"But it was partly me, right?" Patricia replies. "Either way, I'm so fucking sorry, Eddie. I hope you know how much I regret this. I've hurt myself before, and I would have never dreamed of being the person to cause another person to do it."

He nods numbly. Too much is going on at once. He's feeling so many things that he can't describe, so many emotions that he can't even begin to process. He doesn't know what to do with it all. All he knows is that it's too much. He can barely breathe and he can't let her see him have a panic attack. It's bad enough that she knows about the cutting. "Can you just…go? I'm sorry, I need a moment…"

"I've said everything I needed to," Patricia replies. "But again, I'm really sorry." She rises to her feet, turning and walking out of the room, leaving Eddie to slump back against his pillows and close his eyes, just willing his mind to stop racing.

* * *

 **So we finally got a decent Peddie conversation, and Patricia's decided to open up. Thoughts on it? Next chapter, Fabian and Eddie talk songwriting, Nina and Fabian have a moment, and Jerome's scheduled day to visit his father is coming closer and closer...but he's so far from ready. The more reviews I get, the quicker you'll get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Trigger warnings - self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, depression, bullying, and abandonment. Enjoy.**

* * *

He feels sick the rest of the day.

His stomach keeps turning, rendering him nauseous. He's not actually sick, but he's run to the bathroom a couple times to get rid of everything in his system, and he didn't end up eating dinner. Trudy even brought up a bowl of soup that he refused because it made his stomach start to act up again. It's not like his anxiety to leave him with this severe of physical symptoms. Sometimes it does this when he's in a really bad situation, but even those are rare. He's not used to this.

He turns his body on the mattress, head slumping to the side, and groans, closing his eyes. He feels awful. He feels awful that Patricia knows, awful that his secret is no longer a secret, awful that his wrists are still itching and he wants nothing more to take a blade to them – he just feels fucking awful.

"You feel any better?" Fabian closes the door behind him and puts a few books down on his desk. "I could help you with some of your homework."

"That just makes me wanna puke again."

"You need to do your work, Eddie." Fabian reaches for another book and then sits down on his bed. "Nina and I just got done doing our history and reading ahead to the next lesson."

"Aren't you studious?" Eddie turns over and pulls the pillow over his head. He doesn't feel like doing homework. He doesn't feel like doing anything. All he wants to do right now is die, but if he said that he'd never get Fabian off his back. "I feel like shit, Fabian. Trust me, doing homework is at the bottom of the list of things I'd rather be doing right now."

"At least it makes the list."

"Barely."

"Did something happen that made you sick?"

"Sometimes my anxiety has physical affects," Eddie mumbles tiredly. "Should feel better by tomorrow."

"Your dad's worried."

"How does he know?"

"He doesn't," Fabian assures him. "But he's still worried. He'd feel better if you stopped ditching his class."

"And I'd feel better if he stopped trying to talk to me, but looks like we're both destined to be unhappy."

"Eddie-"

"He's just as useless to me as Chemistry will be," Eddie continues. "I'm never going to need to know the periodic table or how many electrons an atom has with the career I want to go into, so why bother? Why do I need to subject myself to this torture if it's never gonna be useful?"

"They just want to give you a background in every subject so you'll be able to pick what you like. It's not meant to torture you."

"I don't like any of it except music," Eddie mumbles. "By the way, do you have a song written for that assignment in music?"

Fabian nods. "I wrote something about the feelings Patricia dredged up with the bullying. It's really rough, but Mr. Edwards said they didn't have to be polished, so it's done."

"I'm working on something about my mom," Eddie mutters. "But I don't know if it's too personal." When he writes about his mom, he goes deep. He delves into large volcanoes of feelings, dormant until stirred. When he stirs the pot, everything comes out and he ends up with something so dark and personal that he's afraid to let anyone read it.

"It's only him reading them," Fabian reminds him. "And songwriting is meant to be personal. It's meant to be about deep things, dark things, things that aren't always so happy. He gets that. The songs he's written aren't all happy."

"I'm just worried he'll think something's wrong and tell my dad. He doesn't know Mr. Sweet is my dad, so he'll be talking as teacher to headmaster, rather than teacher to parent. And I don't want my dad all over me anymore than he already is."

"The last name isn't a dead giveaway?" Fabian shoots him a smirk. "But still, I don't think that'll happen. If you want, you can show me the song and I'll tell you what I think…"

"Sweet's not that uncommon of a last name." He sighs. They had his last name changed as soon as possible. Miller was his mom's maiden name, and he wanted it gone as soon as it was able to. Not that he appreciated having ties to his father due to the same last name, but it was better than being associated with his mother. "But I don't have very much, of the song. It's shitty."

"I doubt that. How is not very much?"

"The chorus," Eddie says. He pulls his song notebook out from under his covers and hands it to Fabian. "Start flipping from the back and the first page of writing is it. The beginning is really dark and you don't want to see that shit." It's more for him than for Fabian. His writing is his and extremely personal. He's nervous every time someone reads something in there.

Fabian does as he says and finally comes to a page called 'Because of You'. As Eddie says, all that's there is the chorus:

 _Because of you_

 _I never stray too far from the sidewalk_

 _Because of you_

 _I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt_

 _Because of you_

 _I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me_

 _Because of you_

 _I am afraid_

"This is amazing," Fabian says, looking up at Eddie. "It's so deep, but it's so powerful. It's straight from your heart."

"Is it too much?"

"The good kind of too much," Fabian assures him. "He's going to love it. I love it. I can't wait to see what the finished product turns into. If it's anything like this, it'll be a masterpiece."

The smile on Eddie's face widens and he ducks his head. "How long have you been playing?" He nods toward the guitar in the corner of the room, and Fabian smiles.

"Since I was 9," he replies. "My dad taught me. He loves music just as much as I do. He plays at pubs on weekends sometimes, not for the money, just because he loves playing so much and wants to share his music with the world."

"I'd love to do that," Eddie says. "But I taught myself. I'm not very good."

"You should play for me!"

"I'm not good at all."

"I can help you get better. If you want me to, that is."

"Well, our end of the year project is to write and perform a song, and I'm probably going to perform this. I really like the direction it's going. I think it represents me better than any other song could. And it gives a lot away without giving too much away."

"I think that'd be beautiful," Fabian says, grinning at him. "I can show you some things on the guitar to give it that extra emotion. We could really make it into something memorable."

"We? You mean you'd help me?"

"Are you dumb? Of course I'd help you! I'm by your side, every step of the way, whatever you need."

"Thanks, Fabian."

"See what this house does to you? You can try all you want to push people away, but it has a way of making you form relationships and get close to people, and then you end up with a band of brothers and sisters that'll always have your back. It's one of the things I love most about going to school here. It's why I wouldn't want to go to school anywhere else."

* * *

"Nina? I wanna show you something, can you come here for a second?"

She turns at the sound of his voice, backpedaling and walking into Fabian and Eddie's room without thinking about it. Eddie is sitting on his bed, doing homework with earbuds in. He lifts his head at her entry, forcing a smile. She smiles back at him, and then turns to Fabian.

Leaning up, she kisses his cheek. He blushes and she watches as the biggest smile comes to his face. It warms her heart to see. She loves that he's so happy. She loves that she can _make_ him that happy. It's an honor to do it. She loves him so much, and the ability to make him light up as bright as a Christmas tree is something she will always treasure.

"What is it?"

His smile drops from his face. "Um, we got this assignment for music class, to write a song about a personal experience, and I kinda wrote it about the bullying. It's really rough and I don't know how good it is…I wanted you to read it before anyone else does, if you don't mind."

"Come here," she says immediately, pulling him into a hug. "Of course, Fabian." They sit down together on the edge of his bed and he hands her a messy sheaf of papers.

"Um, I, I know it's not very good," Fabian mumbles, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "It's still really rough. I need to fix it up a lot."

It's dark. It's really dark and really deep and it breaks her heart to know that he's felt like this because he doesn't deserve it. But he got such a powerful song with such authentic emotion out of his shitty experiences – he turned something so negative into a positive – and that's all she can ask for. He's not dwelling on everything, he's turning his feelings into art and she couldn't be more proud of him.

"This is fucking amazing, Fabian," she breathes. "I…it's so heartbreaking, but so hauntingly true. I love it. I hate that you had to go through that hell and they made you feel like this, but this is remarkable. You did such a good job. I'm sure your teacher will love it."

"Do you really think so?"

She leans in and kisses him. "I know so. There's no doubt in my mind that he'll absolutely love it."

"I love you," Fabian mumbles, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and he winds his around her waist.

"If you two are gonna have sex, let me know so I can leave the room, jesus christ," Eddie mutters in mock anger. He gathers up his books and papers and shoots them a smirk. "I'll go work in the common room."

"No, you don't have to, we-"

He chuckles. "It's okay. I don't mind. Just don't let Trudy or Victor catch you with your pants down."

The reddening on Fabian's cheeks increases tenfold as he walks out of the room, and Nina rolls her eyes. "We weren't going to do that anyway. He's being an ass."

"Eddie's like that," Fabian replies, smiling. "But even though we weren't going to do that, we do have the room to ourselves…"

Nina tightens her grip around him and presses her lips back to his. "I like the way you think, babe."

* * *

"How're you holding up?"

"Fine." Mara rolls her eyes, watching as Jerome crumples up a piece of paper and shoots it into the wastebasket beside his desk.

"Besides slowly killing our planet, _what_ are you doing?" She chides. "Talk to me, love. You're seeing your dad in a couple days."

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Too bad," she replies. "You haven't said anything about it all week. I'm not going to let you bottle it all up and then explode."

"What do you want me to say, Mara?" His voice is still monotone, lacking all emotion. He rips another piece of paper out of his notebook and balls it up. "I'm seeing my sperm donor soon. That's it."

"He's your father, Jerome."

"He left me eleven years ago," Jerome growls back, his voice growing angrier by the second. "I don't remember the part of my life he was in. I don't remember him ever being a father to me. All he's done is cause me anxiety and stress and pain. I don't even want to see him again, but no one gives a crap what I want anymore, so what's the point?"

"Don't you want some answers? Don't you want to know why he made the choices that he did? Why he decided to abandon you all those years ago? What was going on with him and your mother at the time? Haven't you ever wanted to know?"

"Of course I have," Jerome replies. "But I didn't think I had to see him face to face for that to happen. Why couldn't we have just done it through letters? It seemed to work out fine before."

"It's easier to do something like this face to face," Mara says gently. She strokes his cheek with one finger, smiling at him. "I know you're scared, love, but you're not going at this alone. I'm gonna be right there with you the whole time. I wouldn't let you be alone with him, not when I know how uncomfortable it'll make you."

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up," Jerome whispers. "That's why I've tried to forget about it. All day, I've felt nauseous and dizzy every time I think about him. So I'm not thinking about him anymore."

"That's okay," she murmurs. "You don't have to think about him. And if he makes you this anxious, maybe we should talk to Trudy and Victor about getting you some help. I'm sure they could work something out."

"No!" Mara sees the fear in his eyes immediately, and her heart breaks. She didn't mean it as a punishment, but his facial expression conveys that. "Please don't. Please."

"I don't want you to be scared like this anymore," she replies. "You don't deserve to live like this. Maybe the visit will clear some things up, and hopefully make you less anxious. But I'm worried, Jerome. Really worried. I want you to be okay, and if talking to Trudy and Victor about a therapist or medication is what it takes, that's what I'll do."

* * *

 **Eddie's song is where the title of the story comes from, it's by Kelly Clarkson and I own nothing. But thoughts? I've been on Thanksgiving break and have had quite a bit of time to write, so I'm around 15k ahead not counting this chapter...it's gotten to the point where I just feel like updating quicker because I'm writing really good scenes that I really think you guys will like. So next chapter, a (happy) Peddie scene, and Eddie tries to figure out Patricia's true intentions. The more reviews I get, the faster you get the update.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Trigger warning - self-harm, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and abuse. Enjoy.**

* * *

"So, are we done?"

Patricia hits enter one final time, and then slams her laptop shut, turning to Eddie with a grin. "We fuckin' did it."

His own relief matches hers. That project was hell. Finding that many facts on a single element was not easy, and he's so glad it's over. He smiles back at her, pushing his laptop away from him and resting his arms on the table. "Good job, Yacker."

"You too, Slimeball." Patricia looks down at her lap, shaking her head. "Listen, this is the wrong time to bring this up an if you don't want to talk about it that's fine, but I just wanted to say that you don't have to worry about me telling anyone you self-harm. I wouldn't. I used to do it too; I've been there. Someone telling people about my self-harm would've been my worst nightmare. I wouldn't dare do it to you."

Eddie sighs. "Thanks, I guess. I still can't believe you saw that. I didn't think anyone was there. I didn't think I had an audience. It doesn't feel good, knowing someone who really isn't your biggest fan has seen you when you were most vulnerable."

"I don't hate you, Eddie." He's surprised by what she says, truly surprised. He didn't expect it. He thought she absolutely despised him. To hear that she doesn't hate him is confusing. It changes everything; turns whatever he's believed for the past few months on its side. It's uncomfortable as fuck, that's for sure.

"You don't?"

"I really don't," Patricia replies. "I thought I did. I thought you were a bitter asshole I would never get along with. But really, we're not that different."

"I still think you're a bitch who judged me prematurely and made me feel like shit about myself," Eddie mutters. "But you're not _that_ bad, I guess."

"You have good music taste…except for the Pierce the Veil."

"What? Dude, Pierce the Veil is amazing!"

"They're no My Chemical Romance or Asking Alexandria, that's for sure."

"I don't get how you like Asking Alexandria. They scream so much I can't understand what the hell they're even saying!"

"That's the point!"

"I'm a lyrics kinda guy," Eddie says. "If I don't understand the lyrics, I'm not gonna like the song. I like knowing what they're singing about."

"You have the internet for that."

"I shouldn't have to look up the lyrics to understand what they're saying. The screaming is just…too much."

"And Pierce the Veil is too whiny," Patricia retorts. "His voice is not good. He tries to scream and fails."

"At least I can understand him when he does!"

"He's wrecking his voice by doing it!"

"And those guys aren't? They're just screaming and screeching the whole song. It's not singing. You think their voices aren't going to be destroyed from all that?"

"No, because they know the proper way to scream."

"And Vic doesn't?"

"Vic Fuentes couldn't do it the proper way if he tried."

"Do you at least like Bring Me the Horizon?"

"Hospital for Souls is my favorite song."

"Same," Eddie breathes, shaking his head. "It's just…that's the song I go to when I want to hate myself."

"So you do the depressing music when you feel shitty to feel even more shitty thing too?" Patricia asks. "I thought I was the only one. Joy thinks I'm crazy. But it helps."

"It helps so much," Eddie agrees. "There are just times when I don't want to not feel shitty. There are times when I just want to feel worse, when I want to accentuate my pain and make it more than just a feeling. Depressing music is all I listen to and I love it."

"You are literally the only person who has ever understand that," Patricia says in wonder, staring at him. "I've talked to so many people and no one has ever understood me when I've told them that. Everyone thinks I'm crazy and stupid for making myself feel even worse. And that my shitty feelings are my own fault."

"That's bull."

"Right?"

"You're not that bad, Yacker," Eddie says softly. "We could've been real friends if you hadn't done what you did."

"I'm sorry," Patricia says. "I'm trying to fix it. And someday I hope we will be friends, because I'd love to be friends with you. You seem like a better friend than anyone else I've ever met, Slimeball. You get me."

"You get me too."

She grabs her laptop and leaves the common room, and he slumps in his chair, sighing. He really wants to be friends with her. It'd be so nice to be friends with someone who understood him and why he feels the way he does. He loves Fabian, but he's never been able to make him understand how he feels and why he does the things he does. With Patricia, he doesn't have to do that. She understands him without him having to do anything about it. It's easy, with her.

There's a big part of him that wants to just say fuck it to all the shit she's said to him and start fresh, but the other part of him can't forget it all so easily. It's a battle of the two sides, and he doesn't know what to do. He wants to be friends with her, but he isn't sure if he can. He isn't sure if he can let her in, in fear of her hurting him again.

He can't let himself be hurt again. It's been too many times, too many battles. If he lets her in and it goes badly, he isn't sure he'll be able to pick up the pieces. He isn't sure he'll be able to put himself back together. So why take the risk of falling apart? He doesn't know enough about her to be sure she's really sorry.

A thought sticks out in his mind. Joy does. Joy's known Patricia forever, and he'd like to think that he and Joy are on good terms. Maybe he'll talk to her, ask her how Patricia really is. The Patricia he just talked to, he believes that's the real Patricia. If that Patricia had been the one to greet him when he first arrived at Anubis house, she'd be his best friend right now.

He wants to understand why she did what she did. What she told him was part of the story, but it's easier to get the rest from someone who hasn't lived it because they won't be as emotional. Joy's the perfect person to ask.

* * *

"Joy? Can I talk to you?"

Eddie stops her as she's about to walk past his room into the kitchen. He walks over and faces her, tilting his head and crossing his arms over his chest. He hopes she's willing to talk to him. She's the only one who'll actually give him some information he can work with.

"Sure," Joy replies. "Your room?"

He nods, leading the way into the room he shares with Fabian. He perches on his mattress and Joy sits down on Fabian's, crossing her right leg over her left and looking at him.

"What is it?"

"I wanted to ask you about Patricia," Eddie says. "She and I have been talking, for the project. And I know you and Nina put Fabian up to convincing me to listen to her when she tried to apologize and explain herself. So I did. But some of the things she said…I have some questions."

"First off, I'm really sorry about that," Joy replies. "I didn't want to have to do that. But there's a lot to Patricia you won't understand until you know more about her, which I'm pretty sure is what she told you."

"She said something about an abusive relationship, and how I remind her of her abusive boyfriend…"

He's nervous as he says it, unsure of whether Joy's been privy to all this information. If this is news to Joy, there's going to be even bigger of a problem. He doesn't want to have to deal with the aftermath of that cyclone, so he's hoping for the best.

"Adam." Joy nods, sighing. "You two are pretty similar, I can see where she'd get that."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not the personality," Joy replies. "That'd be an insult. It's your mannerisms. How you carry yourself. Your sarcasm. The way you dress. When she first saw you, she saw Adam, not Eddie. That's where her harbored hatred began breeding."

"I don't get it…" He shakes his head. "How could I possibly remind her of someone abusive? I'm not…I can't be…I don't…I'm not abusive."

"She knows that," Joy assures him. "We all do. But she can't help what her mind associates things with. Just like you couldn't help being nervous and scared around all of us at first."

"I-"

"Don't bother," Joy chuckles. "You looked like you were about to have a heart attack when we first met you."

"I wasn't that bad."

"Right. You were worse."

"Shut up!"

"Make me."

He goes to sit down next to her, and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "I get what Fabian meant."

"Hm?"

"About this house becoming family after a while. I didn't think it'd happen, but it did."

"Oh, that. Yeah, definitely."

"But going back to Patricia…how, how bad was Adam?"

Joy sighs. "Adam was a monster, Eddie. He was a fucking monster. A one man wrecking crew. And Patricia was his target."

"My mom was abusive," Eddie says. He didn't think he'd be telling Joy this today, but it's been almost three months since he's been at Anubis House, and he feels like they're finally close enough. He doesn't have to worry about Patricia finding out and spreading shit to the whole house – maybe the fact that she saw him cutting was a blessing in disguise. "Like, really bad. CPS had to be called on her. That's why I came here."

"Eddie…" Joy pulls away from him enough to wrap her own arms around him. She leans up to kiss his cheek, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm so fucking sorry. I knew something bad had happened to you, but I couldn't figure out what it was…"

"What? How'd you know?"

"That's usually the case with self-harm."

He freezes. "You…what?"

"I know you cut yourself," Joy says softly. "Don't freak out. I know that's your instinct, but don't. I used to do it a lot, last year. I know the signs. I know that the reason you wear that leather jacket like a second skin isn't because you want to look cool. You're trying to hide your cuts."

The anxiety he had with Patricia isn't there. He isn't as freaked out by this. The main problem in his mind was Patricia finding out, because she'd be just like the people in America, telling everyone who cared to know and bullying him for it. Joy just said that she used to do it too. She wouldn't do that to him.

"Fucking hell," he sighs. "I didn't…I didn't want this many people to find out."

"Who knows?"

"Fabian, Patricia, and now you…"

"Patricia knows?"

"She caught me when I was doing it at night once," Eddie admits. "It's a long story."

"One we'll talk about another time," Joy finishes. "Okay. But back to Adam…he was a fucking dickhead. But with him, it was more emotional and verbal than anything. The things he'd say to her were disgusting. And I think that's worse than the physical abuse because she internalized those things. She still keeps them with her now. Her bruises have faded and her scars have healed, but she still has the emotional reminders."

"I know the feeling," Eddie nods. "I just…we were talking about bands earlier, and it was really nice. I felt like she understood me. But I don't know whether I can get past all our shit…"

"You should really try," Joy tells him. "I'm not saying her actions don't deserve you never forgiving her, but she's the kind of person it really pays off to be friends with. Even though she's caused me pain, I can't imagine life without her. It's just the way friendship works sometimes. You hurt each other, but still love each other in the end."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Peddie have finally had a conversation not relating to the shit going on, and Eddie's starting to understand Patricia a little better. Next chapter is their chemistry presentation, and let's just say...it goes badly. Really badly. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, depression, mentions of rape and abuse, and suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

"How long has it been since we've all been in the same room together?"

"There are ten of us here now, Fabes. And all of us have different schedules. That's usually the hardest thing to do," Joy reminds him, smiling.

They're having lunch together in the common room, lounging on beanbags and couches, just enjoying the hour they have to spend with each other. Fabian really was right about the house becoming family. He feels a deeper connection with the nine other people he lives with, a connection he doesn't feel with any of the other students in the school.

It's weird. On the plane ride to England, he remembers having a long talk with himself. He remembers telling himself that he wouldn't get attached, that he wouldn't form connections or friendships that'd later be broken by his suicide. He wouldn't hurt people. It's always easier to cut ties when they're barely there to begin with.

But now, now that it's been three months and he's done everything he promised himself he wouldn't do, he's really happy he didn't listen to himself. He's happy that he chose to get close to people, because having eight…maybe even nine people that understand him and love him and feel like brothers and sisters to him is one of the best feelings in the world. He went from having nobody to having nine somebodies (or eight, if he doesn't count Patricia, because he honestly isn't sure where they stand anymore).

"Eddie and Patricia can finally be in the same room without killing each other, I'd say that's an accomplishment," Jerome announces. Eddie winces, feeling his face get hot. He knows it was a harmless joke, and that's what he took it as, but it's easy to see the pain on Patricia's face.

"I'm sorry, okay?" She exclaims. "How many fucking times do I have to say it?"

"I dunno. As many as it takes for you to mean it?"

"I _do_ mean it!"

"Does Eddie know that?"

"He does," Eddie speaks up. "She's apologized to me, and while we're not totally good, we're working things through. Don't all gang up on her. And you can end whatever this freeze Patricia out protest thing was. Really, I appreciate the gesture, but we're working everything out and there are no more sides to take."

"Thank fuckin' god." Alfie heaves a deep sigh. "That was annoying as fuck. I just wanted us all to be friends again."

"We're getting there. Slowly, but surely."

"Speaking of getting places, are you and Patricia done with your Chemistry project?" Mara asks. "Do you need any help?"

"We finished yesterday," Eddie replies. "Thanks, though. It was pretty hard."

"Tell me about it," Amber adds. "And working with Alfie is always a challenge because he never does any work!"

"Like you didn't spend more time worrying about what your makeup looked like!"

"But who actually did the research and wrote the paper?"

"Hey, I made the powerpoint! And it's amazing!"

"It is _now_ , after I went in and made a bunch of changes and corrected all your inaccurate info. Because carbon _dioxide_ isn't the gas that kills people, that's carbon _monoxide_."

"If carbon dioxide killed people, we'd all be dead right now," Fabian adds. "The air is full of it, plants emit it, it's everywhere."

"So I made one mistake, big deal," Alfie harrumphs. "Give a guy a break."

"I love you." Amber leans in and kisses him, and he smiles against her lips, turning to face her properly and pulling her against him.

"Oh jesus christ," Eddie mutters, rolling his eyes. "It really gets old, being single around here."

"Tell me about it!" Patricia agrees. "Before you got here, it was just me, and it was disgusting! We'd all be in the common room and they'd all be making out and I'd just be sitting there and hating my life."

"Don't you do that on a daily basis, though?"

"Sure, but it was considerably more during those times," Patricia replies. "Everyone was kissing and being mushy and shit and holding hands under the breakfast table and I just wanted to shoot myself. PDA overdose, for sure."

"At least now you have some single company."

"I'm sure you're just loving watching all this gross shit, aren't you?"

"If by loving it you mean being blinded by near sex on almost every occasion, sure."

"We should go out and do something, get away from them."

"We can hear you, you know," Nina says, rolling her eyes at them. "We're not invisible."

"You're not in this conversation; you have a boyfriend," Patricia retorts. "Single people only."

"So I guess we should leave you and Eddie to it, then?"

"You're not talking about what I think you're talking about, are you?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

"I fuckin' hate all of you."

"Love you too." Jerome grins at him, and Eddie groans, burying his head in his arms as the bell signaling the end of lunch rings.

"I didn't expect this to be over so quickly, fuck," Mick mutters. He leans in and kisses Joy quickly, before gathering up his books. "I gotta run to the other side of the school. I'll see you this afternoon for our run, okay babe? Love you."

"Love you too," Joy says, kissing him once more. He rushes out of the room, and slowly, one by one, the rest of them start to disperse, until it's just Eddie and Patricia left.

"I'll see you back at the house, I guess," Eddie mutters. He grabs his things and starts to leave, but Patricia calls him back. "Yeah?"

"Hey, I was kinda serious about hanging out somewhere without the couples," she says. "I mean, if you want to. We could go to like a park or something, and just talk. Nothing crazy or weird or anything, just talking. You and I still have a lot of things to talk about, and it'll be nice to get away from the house for a change."

Eddie smiles at her, nodding. This is one of those times that thinking isn't the best thing to do. It's better to just go with his gut. "I'd like that, Yacker."

* * *

It's here.

The day he's been dreading for the past two weeks has finally dawned upon them.

Presentation day.

He's managed to avoid it for too long. His dad knows how severe his anxiety is, so he pulled him aside and they agreed that he and Patricia would present in the middle. Not first, so they wouldn't look like idiots if they got something wrong, and not last, because people would remember it.

The shitty thing about this presentation is that it acts as notes for the rest of the class. They _have_ to present. His anxiety can't get him out of it. His dad would do that, and if he was reluctant, Eddie would pull the abuse card, and it would all work out. But because the presentation is the only thing the rest of their class has to study from for the test, so he has no choice.

He's fucking terrified.

He didn't sleep at all, too worried and unable to shut his mind off. It also doesn't help that he beat himself up for not being able to sleep and having anxiety about everything to begin with, so he cut again. Not only does he have to worry about the presentation and what all the kids are going to think of him, he also has to make sure his arms stay covered and his sleeves don't ride up at all during it. Especially since his dad's the teacher and is going to be looking at him like he's studying him under a microscope.

The entire thing has him wanting to vomit.

"Eddie? You have your notecards and shit, right?" He puts a book into his locker and glances at Patricia, trying to keep his breakfast where it belongs.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Fuck. I'm so nervous about this whole thing."

"It'll be okay," Patricia assures him. "And you're allowed to be nervous. Anxiety's a bitch."

"How'd you know, about that? I'm pretty sure I didn't tell you about it…"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out," she replies. "I knew from the day I met you. Some anxiety is normal for everyone, but yours was out of control. There had to be something wrong."

"Great." He grabs a textbook and sighs. "I'm a fucked up piece of shit that can't even do a presentation without having a panic attack. I already know. You don't have to say it."

"I wasn't gonna say that," Patricia says, looking mildly offended. He scoffs. Judging by her behavior since he's been here, it's hard to believe. "I used to be really anxious about this shit too. But then I realized how little I care. I don't give a shit what they think of me. They think what they wanna think. All that matters is what I think."

Eddie rolls his eyes, finally slamming the locker door shut. "If only it was that fucking easy."

* * *

"So rhodium is a transition metal, and it's mainly used as a catalyst in three way catalytic converters…"

Eddie stops listening as Patricia goes on to describe rhodium's use in cars. He's trembling. He knows everyone can tell how nervous he is because they can see his hands shaking as he tries to keep a hold on his index cards. His palms are sweaty and he's nauseous. He's been hit with numerous hot flashes since they got up in front of the room, and there's no telling when they'll die down.

Staring out into the sea of faces has him even more anxious. Nina, Fabian, and Joy are in the class, and all three of them are looking at him with a mixture of comfort and reassurance on their faces, to little avail. He still can't breathe.

"And now Eddie's going to explain rhodium's one isotope."

All eyes flicker over to him, and the nausea increases tenfold. He can't breathe. He opens his mouth, but he can't force words out. He looks down at his cards, down at the words he has to say all written out in perfectly coherent sentences. All he has to do is read them.

"Eddie?"

But even that is too much.

He hears the snickers, sees the looks his classmates are giving each other, and that's when it all goes to shit.

"So, um, rhodium has one, um, isotope, and um," he stutters. He's dizzy and it's slowly getting harder to breathe.

"Get to the point, jesus fucking christ." He doesn't know who said it, but hearing the words combined with everything else is too much. He can't do this.

He lets the index cards fall out of his hands and runs.

The urgent call of Patricia and his father's yell mean nothing as he takes off, out of the classroom and down the hall. He slides down onto the floor next to a set of restrooms and brings his knees to his head, burying his head in them and trying to breathe.

Tears are running down his cheeks and snot is dripping from his nose as he staggers to his feet and leans over a trashcan, just in time for him to lose his breakfast. He retches painfully, doubling over with the force of his heaves.

He wants to die.

A hand begins rubbing his back as he heaves once more. He leans back, exhausted.

"You're okay." Patricia helps him sit back down and wipe his mouth, and he looks at her tiredly, shaking his head.

"Why are you here?"

"You're having a serious panic attack and you're worried about why I'm here?"

"You should be pissed at me. I fucked up our entire presentation."

"I'm sorry, did panic attack just not make it to your eardrums? You couldn't breathe. It's not like you ditched our presentation because you didn't care. In fact, you cared a little too much, if I'm honest. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why?"

Patricia shrugs. "Because I care about you, asshole. I know it may not seem like I do, but I'm trying to change that."

* * *

"I'm coming back with you. I texted Fabian and he said he'd bring our shit back at lunch."

"Why?" Eddie gets to his feet slowly, still shaking slightly. He wobbles, unsteady, closing his eyes as Patricia grabs his shoulder. He doesn't have really bad panic attacks very often, and definitely not ones that push him to vomiting. This really did take a toll on him. He just wants to go and sleep for a year.

"Because you look like you're about to fall flat on your face," Patricia replies. "And I wanna make sure you're alright."

Eddie wants to argue, but his stomach rolls and he winces. He wraps an arm around his abdomen and follows Patricia out of the school and toward Anubis house.

"Oh, Eddie! You look so peaky love, what happened?" Trudy greets them at the door worriedly, a dishtowel draped over one shoulder. "Patricia, is he alright? What's going on?"

"We had our Chemistry presentation today, and he had a really bad panic attack," Patricia explains. "He puked and everything…I think he should just rest."

Trudy's hand flies to Eddie's forehead, and she clucks her tongue. "He's not warm. You said he vomited?"

"Been nauseous since this morning. Worried about the presentation." Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. "Stomach hurts."

"Oh dear." Trudy holds the door open wider for them to come in, and leads them toward Eddie and Fabian's room. "Some rest will do you good, love. Patricia, you can go back to school now. I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure?"

"I am," Trudy replies. "You can't ditch anymore love, Mr. Sweet is going to realize what's going on and you'll get detention. And you can tell him what's going on with Eddie so he doesn't worry."

Eddie snorts under his breath at that. He pulls at his tie and shrugs out of his blazer, tossing it onto the floor, and then walks a couple steps forward and collapses onto his bed.

He's asleep in minutes.

* * *

 **Thoughts? So Eddie really had a shitty day, eh? At least a few cute Peddie moments came out of it, lol. You guys have gotten a lot of Peddie in these last couple chapters, so next chapter is mainly subplots; more on the Amfie situation, and what's supposed to be a simple presentation ends badly for Fabian. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Extremely important note at the bottom - please make sure you guys read it.**

 **Trigger warnings - panic attacks, anxiety, mentions of rape/abuse, bullying, and racism.**

* * *

When Eddie walks out into the common room, he knows that the whole house has found out about the incident. He can tell by the shift in their facial expressions the moment he makes his presence known.

He feels like shit and he looks worse. The pajama pants are falling off his hips and he pulled on a hoodie at the last second, remembering that his cuts are clear as day in the short sleeved t-shirt he's wearing. His head hurts from how hard he was crying, and his entire body just aches. He's probably not going to go to school tomorrow. It's Friday and his teachers aren't doing _that_ much.

The panic attack he had today was one of the worst he's ever had. He can only remember having ones this bad in the middle of a beating or after his stepfather raped him for the first time. The fact that it got so bad for something so stupid has him wanting to slice at his wrists.

"How're you feeling?" Fabian's eyes follow him as he plops down next to Patricia, the only free spot in the room.

"Head hurts like hell and I feel like shit, but a little better. I guess you could say that much."

"Patricia told us what happened," Mara explains, shooting him a reassuring smile. "I'm really sorry for what those kids did."

"Not your fault," Eddie replies, waving a hand. "It's over."

"What'd Mr. Sweet say?" Alfie asks, glancing at Patricia. "Is he gonna make you guys do it over?"

Eddie's heart immediately picks up at that. Do it over? He has to go through that _again_? He barely made it the first time, let alone doing it once more. He won't be able to survive that.

"You have the worst timing ever," Patricia hisses. "Don't put that thought in his head. He's still recovering from the panic attack he had doing it the first time. But to answer your question, no we don't have to do it again. Sweetie pulled me aside and said we could write a transcript of what we were planning to say, and he'd grade that."

"I don't want special treatment because he's my dad," Eddie sighs. "That isn't fair. I hate that it's even a thing. I wish no one knew."

"You're not getting special treatment because he's your dad, though," Nina points out. "You're getting special treatment because standing in front of a room full of people and giving a presentation leaves you unable to breathe to the point of vomiting. That's serious. I'm sure he'd let you off even if he weren't your dad."

"And because he's your dad, he knows that this is something you _definitely_ cannot do," Joy adds. "If he weren't related to you he'd be less sympathetic. He probably would've had you redo it. But your dad knows how bad your anxiety is. He's just trying to make a really tough situation a lot easier on you. Let him."

* * *

She takes a long, slow, deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Inhaling and exhaling, trying to get into a steady rhythm, just enough so that she's able to think coherently and process the situation. She's always like this after phone calls with him. He brings out the worst in her. He's the epitome of the stereotypical rich businessman, and she couldn't hate him any more if she tried.

 _"_ _I didn't realize your boyfriend was_ black _."_ The way he spit out the word like it was a bad taste in his mouth makes her feel sick. She sent her father a picture of her and Alfie all dressed up because he planned on taking her to a fancy restaurant for date night, and that was his response. It disgusts her, leaves her nauseous and dizzy. She's numb, unable to feel anything, but the words just keep repeating in her head, over and over like a movie she never wants to rewatch.

Racism has never been a problem for her. Of course it hasn't. She's white. Her father's rich. She gets whatever the hell she wants. She is the epitome of white privilege and she hasn't realized it until now. When she fell for Alfie, the color of his skin wasn't even a blip on her radar. She fell for his personality, for his heart, for how beautiful he is. And his dark skin only accentuates that. It's not a coat of shame, it's beautiful and he wears it with pride. What really makes her sick are people like her father, people who look past everything a person is to the color of their skin and judge them.

Alfie means everything to her. He is the first male figure in her life that hasn't disappointed her or left her or made her feel small for being who she is. He's the first person who's ever loved her unconditionally, who hasn't taken notice of her grades or appearance before her personality.

She loves him so much that her heart aches because of it; only it's the best kind of ache. Her heart hurts from how much she loves him, from how deeply rooted their love is. They've been together for almost two years and those two years have been the best two years of her life. Alfie makes her feel like she doesn't have to be perfect. Coming from a life and a family where anything less than perfect is inherently worthless, being with Alfie is like coming up for a breath of fresh air. She was drowning in the sea of perfectness, and he saved her.

She hates him. She hates her father for judging so prematurely, for deciding that Alfie isn't worth her time without even meeting him, just based on the color of his skin. There is so much more to him, so much more beyond him being black. It's never occurred to her until now. Maybe that's because she's white and inherently ignorant to the struggles people of color face, but now one of those struggles is directly affecting her and she can't breathe under the weight of this realization. How does Alfie deal with it every day of his life?

With shaking hands, she pulls the picture up on her phone of her and Alfie that she sent to her father. He's dressed in a light blue shirt, navy tie, and black pants, with black shoes. He looks so good. So handsome. It's not like he's wearing ripped jeans and an old, stained shirt. He cleans up so well. But all her father saw was his dark skin and before he decided that Alfie's automatically not good enough for her.

"Ambs? Babe, you in here?" Alfie pokes his head around the doorframe and smiles. "Hey, are you crying? What's wrong?"

She wipes at her face hurriedly, shaking her head. "Oh, nothing. I was just watching a sad movie, y'know, those ones you really hate."

He smiles, crawling onto the bed and kissing her cheek. "Mara and Jerome were planning to go see a movie in town, do you wanna go with them? Make it a double date?"

"That'd be amazing." She'd give anything to escape from these thoughts, from the situation, anything to distract her from everything. Alfie is the perfect distraction. And going to the movies with him is her favorite thing to do.

"I love you," Alfie murmurs, his voice close to her ear. She leans in to kiss him, and hugs his waist tightly. She loves him so much. How can her father want to rip him away just based on the color of his fucking skin?

* * *

 _need you. please._

Nina stares at the text, frozen. Fabian always uses proper grammar and capitalization, not to mention never texts in the middle of class. He doesn't even take out his phone while the teacher is talking, always wanting to give them his full attention and hating the thought of a distraction. She knows he's in history right now, and he had a presentation today, so something must've happened.

She rises to her feet and grabs her bag, speed walking out of the classroom and breaking into a run as soon as she gets out the door. She can hear her teacher calling after her, but she ignores it. Fabian wouldn't have said anything if this wasn't urgent. She's worried. Too worried to be able to keep a rational head while the class went on. If she'd waited, it would've been too late.

She finds Fabian sitting on one of the couches in the common room, a hand pressed to his chest. His bag is lying on the floor, and when she reaches him, she places a hand on his back and realizes that he's soaked with sweat.

"What's going on?" She takes off her own bag and sits down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Fabian lifts his head and looks up at her, cheeks tearstained and eyes bloodshot.

"My chest hurts. I think I had a panic attack." His voice is shot, hoarse and sounding very painful. He's breathing heavily, wincing. Her heart is in pieces. But she doesn't have time to feel things right now. She needs to help him.

"Let's take this off." She helps him out of his blazer, only to realize that his sweater is wet too. "Alright, come on. We're going back to the house. You need to rest."

"I have class," he protests weakly. "I can't miss it."

"You just had a panic attack," she deadpans. "You and I are going back to the house, you're going to get out of these clothes, and we're going to rest for a while. Forget about class. You can make everything up when you feel better."

* * *

Fabian is weak and tired, but stubborn. He insists on not letting her help him as they make the journey back to Anubis House. When Trudy asks why they're back so early, Nina sees the pain in his eyes and feels his form deflate against her. She knows he feels guilty and upset and exhausted. He just needs to sleep.

"Go change." She hands him a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt. "I'll run up and do the same, okay?"

She changes her clothes in record speed, pulling on any old pair of sweatpants and a shirt that's probably Amber's. She doesn't care what she looks like. She just needs to get to Fabian before realizations start hitting him and he starts to feel even guiltier about ditching school in the middle of the day. He's never done it before. Not in the year she's known him, at least. Fabian is the type of person that despises even the thought. This is hell for him.

Nina sighs, watching as Fabian stumbles back into his bedroom. His hair is messy and he looks absolutely wrecked, red cheeks matching bloodshot eyes. He rubs at his face, shaking his head.

"This isn't necessary, m'fine."

"If you're so fine, why are you shaking?" She reaches out to hug him and then holds him at arm's length. "It's okay. You're okay. Let's just relax for a while. Everything is going to be alright, I promise."

They get into bed together, and she becomes the big spoon for the first time in her life. Fabian curls into her, burying his face in her chest and gripping onto her waist like his life depends on it. She sighs again, running one hand through his hair while the other rubs his back in large, soft circles.

"I love you, you know?" She murmurs. "I'm happy you texted me."

"The presentation was a mess," he says, in some kind of explanation. "I tried. I really did. I knew what I was doing and I was okay until I got questions I couldn't answer and then people started calling me stupid and I was back at my old school, with the bullies." His voice hitches and she feels her shirt begin to dampen.

"You're okay," she repeats. "I'm here for you. I love you."

"Love you too."

"Sleep, okay? I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

"I'm hearing this wrong, aren't I? I'm going deaf. That'd happen before _Fabian_ ditched school. Honestly."

"He had a panic attack, lovey," Trudy explains, as they sit down in the common room. "Nina brought him home a few hours ago. A history presentation didn't go over so well. But I checked on them a while back, and they're both sleeping."

"I hope he's okay," Joy sighs. "Panic attacks don't happen to him that often. The presentation must've been really bad."

"I'm willing to bet it had something to do with his bullying," Eddie speaks up. "He's been really jumpy lately. And that fucking sucks so much." He glances around the room and freezes. "Shit. I shouldn't have told you guys that…"

"Tell us something we don't know, honestly," Alfie says. "We've known for almost a year now. Just didn't know how to bring it up to him. It hasn't seemed to bother him until now, so there was no reason to. But he's been through some shit and we all tend to forget that. I think Nina and Joy are the only ones who don't."

"He really has been through a lot," Jerome agrees. "We don't talk about it much."

"I guess because Fabian's always been this really strong, really level-headed guy." Mick sighs and shakes his head. "He's the guy I go to if I need help with homework, the guy that reminds me about tests, the guy that's there to give me a simple solution to a problem I didn't even realize I had…Fabian is amazing."

"We don't appreciate him enough," Patricia says. "He's done so much for all of us, helped us through a lot, and managed to keep a cool head while doing it. He doesn't let his emotions get in the way of doing whatever he can for us."

"He's told me before that this house is family to him," Eddie continues. "And he thinks of all of us as brothers and sisters. And he cares so much. He's willing to do anything for any of us, and I dunno about any of you guys, but that's what I love most about him. He's the most selfless person I've ever met."

"Because Fabian does so much for us, I think we should give back to him and help him when he needs it," Mara suggests. "Knowing him, he'll be upset about missing classes, so do any of you guys have classes with Fabian? The ones he missed? We should get all the work together so he has it. He's probably feeling really guilty over ditching school."

"Has he _ever_ ditched?" Mick asks. "Like, in the time we've known him, I don't think I've ever seen him miss school unless it was an absolute emergency, like he was sick or something. And even then, he tried to tough out things he didn't even need to tough out."

"He loves school," Mara replies. "Is there a problem with that? I love school too."

"No," Mick says. "It's just weird. He's too obsessed with school; he won't even miss it when he needs to. He was probably even more of a mess because he was trying to hold himself together and force himself to tough it out even though he didn't need to. His expectations for _himself_ are too damn high."

"That's the way Fabian is."

"He doesn't know when to take a break. He overworks himself way too much. It's not good for him. School isn't that fuckin' important."

* * *

 **Alright. Let's talk about some things. I've been terrified to post this chapter for a while, and this is why.**

 **The Amfie subplot is going to revolve around racism, around Amber's racist father and how he affects their relationship. Let me make something clear. I did not do this for drama. I did not do this because it'll make things more exciting or because it'll add drama. I did this for me. I'm not black, and I'm not going to pretend that I understand the struggles black people face, because I don't. However, I am a person of color (both my parents immigrated to the US from India, and I was born in the US), and in the wake of this election...I needed to write this.**

 **This storyline is going to discuss white privilege and the struggles POCs face because of it, so I'm saying this right now; if you believe that white privilege doesn't exist and doesn't affect people, click away. I'm not going to tolerate any negative comments. They will be deleted immediately. For those of you who are iffy, I hope this storyline will clear some things up.**

 **I think it's interesting to write from Amber's perspective on this, a rich, white girl that has grown up with the only struggle being how strict her father is. Because Amber is white, she is inherently ignorant. She can empathize with Alfie all she wants, but she'll never understand his struggles. And I think that's safe to say for all white people. It's not her fault, not by any means, but she's never really thought about this issue until now. And now, with Alfie opening up and giving her his side of the story, her world is going to change drastically.**

 **This is something I really needed to get off my chest. I use writing as a therapy, a way to cope. This was my way of coping with the election. I can't say for sure that Amber's father's views will change by the end, but it will lead to a lot of serious conversations and Amber's eyes will be opened to the world beyond what she's known.**

 **Thank you guys for listening and being so understanding. I really hope this will go over well with you all. Next chapter, Fabian faces the aftermath of his panic attack, and Amber and Alfie have their first real conversation about all of this.**

 **Thank you guys for reading. Please try and keep politics out of the reviews. This storyline was written due to the election, but that is all I have to say regarding politics. I use fanfiction as an escape from the real world, and I'm sure many of you guys do as well. Keep it light.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you guys so much for the positivity last chapter. It's really nice to know so many of you are on board with this Amfie storyline. It's continued in this chapter, and I hope you like the direction I'm taking it.**

 **Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of suicidal thoughts, and racism.**

* * *

Fabian's met with warm smiles as he slides into his seat at dinner. He knows they know what happened. Trudy would've told them. It doesn't bother him too much. He knows that they would've found out one way or another, and he prefers it having been this way, rather than him having to tell them.

This has given him an insight to the life Eddie lives every day, and as he'd put it, it fucking sucks. The constant feeling of being on edge, the shakiness, heart palpitations, hot and cold flashes, and just overall exhaustion – all of it is hell. He doesn't know how Eddie's still standing if this is his reality every day of his life.

"You feel any better?" Nina grabs his hand under the table, bringing it into her lap and rubbing her thumb against the back. He smiles at her, appreciating the gesture, before turning to address the rest of his housemates.

"Yeah. Still kinda crappy, though. Sorry I worried you guys."

"Typical Fabian," Mick groans. "Apologizes for worrying us when he's the one who had the panic attack."

"Yeah, you don't have anything to apologize for," Joy tells him. "We're glad you're okay."

"We also want to fucking kill those kids who laughed at you, but that's a different story entirely," Eddie mutters.

"It's my fault," Fabian says. "Not theirs. I should've been more prepared. I wasn't, so I paid the price for it."

"Jesus christ," Eddie grumbles. "It's not your fault. It's theirs for being dicks. You can't control your reaction to them being absolute assholes for no fucking reason."

Fabian shrugs. "It's over, I guess. I'm just angry at myself for even having to go through it since I need to spend a lot of time catching up now. I missed more than half my classes."

"Fabian, I love you, but god, you annoy me sometimes," Mick mutters. "You're acting like it's the end of the world and it's not. It's okay to take breaks sometimes. It's okay to need time for yourself. School doesn't come before your mental health."

"Yeah, definitely," Mara agrees. "Even though I'm as serious about school as you are, I still think that sometimes you just need a break and that's not something to be ashamed of. We'll help you catch up. Just take the weekend and relax, okay? Don't stress about history or any of the classes you missed. They're not important right now."

* * *

"Alfie? Can I talk to you?"

Amber stands nervously at the entrance to the room Alfie shares with Jerome and Mick. She's shaking, fingers winding themselves together and heart pounding, because she's about to have a conversation about racism with her non-white boyfriend and everything is about to go downhill from here.

"Sure." Alfie stands and walks over to her, his hands immediately going to grip her waist. He leans in to kiss her, but she pulls back, shaking her head. The shock and hurt on his face make her heart ache. How is she supposed to do this? How is she supposed to hurt him like this? Surely no person would be so cruel. She can't stand the thought of what she's about to do. "Did…did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?"

"Just sit down, okay?" Her voice cracks as she motions to his bed. "This isn't easy for me."

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" She notices the tears in his eyes almost immediately, and the tonal shift in his voice is evident. "Please tell me you're not breaking up with me."

"I'm not," Amber replies. "I promise I'm not. But we need to talk about our relationship, Alfie."

"Is this about the project? I'm so sorry I didn't do as much as I should've! I promise I'll do more the next time! I'll even tell Sweet that you did most of the work so you get the higher grade!" He sounds so desperate and it's heartbreaking.

"It's not that." She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. "Alfie, my dad doesn't approve of our relationship."

"What? Why?" Alfie stares at her, bewildered. His eyes are wide and he looks like he's just been punched in the stomach.

She swallows hard against the large lump in her throat. "Because you're black."

The silence goes on for a good two minutes. The tension is palpable. Amber does her best to avoid eye contact with him. She doesn't want to see the hurt, the pain, the betrayal in his eyes. She may not agree with her father's views, but they're the views of her family and she can't see why he'd want to date someone whose family views him as inferior just because of the fucking color of his skin.

"Is that…is that how you feel too?" His tone is different. It's lower. Guarded. He's speaking to her like he would be an authority figure. It's monotone. There's no light or emotion reflected in his voice. He's putting walls up. In front of _her_. The only person who's supposed to see him with his walls down.

"No!" She lifts her head up to meet his eyes, shaking her head fervently. "Alfie, I love you! I fell in love with you personality and your heart; your appearance was just an added bonus! I think you're the most handsome man in the world, but even if you weren't, I'd still love you just as much as I do now because you'd still be the same goofball I've always known and always loved. I'm not racist, my dad is…please don't pay any attention to his words."

"Then what's the problem?" Alfie asks. "If I love you and you love me, and you don't care what color my skin is, why is it a problem?"

"My dad doesn't think you deserve me," she replies. "But he couldn't be more wrong. I just…I don't get it. It still makes me nauseous to think about. How can someone hate you just because your skin is a different color than theirs is? It makes no sense."

"Amber, that's been my reality all my life." He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. "Do you think this is the first time something like this has happened? Of course, it's never happened with a girlfriend since you're my first, but I've been facing racism my entire life. It's never news. The only people it's news to is white people. Because they don't realize they're being racist, they think it's over and done with. The only people who get it are the ones targeted by it."

"I want to understand," Amber says softly. "I want to be able to help you. You've helped me through so much, it's only fair…"

"You'll never be able to understand it, love." He opens his arms. "Come here."

"I want to, though. You don't have to go through this alone."

"You're not black, Amber," Alfie says. "You're white. You're not a person of color. You're white and you're inherently privileged and while it's not fair, it's something I've had to accept. You won't understand because you've never experienced it. You've never had a conversation with your parents about being treated differently due to something you can't control. You've never been taught that the only way to survive in a white-dominated society is to not argue, to not fight, to just let them take what they take. It's only a problem once they start taking too much. And sure, they probably have been for ages. But that's the way the world works, babe. I can't do anything about it."

"If I were you, I'd be so angry. I'd be fucking livid, Alfie. I'd scream at my father because his views don't make sense. He's idiotic for even having them."

"What good would that do?" Alfie sighs, wrapping his arms around her torso and pulling her back so she's sitting between his legs. "How would that change things for me? This is the card I've been dealt. Now I have to play it. I can't spend my entire life fighting it."

"How are you so accepting of this?" Amber asks. "Doesn't it _bother_ you?"

He snorts. "Of course it bothers me. It bothers me more than I can say. My dad is a successful lawyer. He's never lost a case. And my mom is a college professor at Oxford University. Do you know how much shit they had to go through to get to those positions? How many people my dad had to fight off before people realized he knew what he was talking about? How many people he had to beg to represent because they didn't believe a black man could get them the justice they needed? And my mom, who's had students, white students, tell her they don't think she's experienced enough in her field to properly teach them. Even though she has a PhD, she's not experienced enough. It's bullshit, Amber. Fucking bullshit. But there's nothing I can do about it. Change will only happen when more white people, like you, start realizing that something is wrong and work to correct it. Because no one's listening when us people of color say anything."

"I never…I had no idea it was this bad…" She feels numb. She's lived such a privileged, fortunate life. She never realized that there were people who she grew up with who didn't have that.

"Something I had to learn the hard way was that I'd never be as good as someone, even if I knew more than them, because I'm black," Alfie mutters. "And it was such a hard pill to swallow. It made me suicidal more times than I can count. Because if I'd never be as good as a white person, no matter what I did, why bother living?"

"Alfie…" She turns in his arms, turns and wraps her arms around him as tightly as she can, dropping her head to his chest and letting tears fall. This hurts so much. She didn't realize things were this bad for people of color. She didn't realize that she really does have it so fucking good. She didn't realize that people could honestly be so ignorant and so stupid, and now that she's aware of it, it's breaking her. Alfie's gone through this pain his entire life, all because of stupid fucking assholes like her father, ignorant, self-absorbed fucks.

"Don't cry. I don't feel that way anymore, I promise. We're okay," Alfie tells her, his voice close to her ear. "No matter what your dad says. We're okay. I love you, and you love me, and that's all we need. We're okay, baby."

She nods into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. She's not sure she really believes that.

* * *

"No one bother Amber and Alfie," Jerome says, ducking out of the room and closing the door behind them. "I don't know what they were just talking about, but it's some pretty heavy shit considering how exhausted they both look."

Eddie glances up from his computer, meeting Jerome's eyes, silently asking for more information. Jerome shrugs and shakes his head, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Jerome, love, you just had lunch!"

"I can't help it Trudy, I'm hungry!" Jerome whines back. "I'm gonna make myself a sandwich."

"Make two!" Eddie calls. "I could go for a sandwich!"

"Got it!"

"You boys eat like wolves," Trudy says, shaking her head. "Try not to make too much of a mess, okay?"

Eddie turns back to his laptop and looks over it, surveying the room. Mara's explaining what they did yesterday to Fabian, who insisted on catching up even though they were all against it, Nina and Patricia are talking, Joy and Mick went out for their run, and Jerome, of course, is in the kitchen.

Eddie's sitting on one of the couches, working on an essay, although it's proving to be a lot harder than it seemed when he first got the assignment. He doesn't know the significance of the themes in Macbeth, and he really doesn't care. That play was the most painful thing he's ever had to read. Shakespearian is so confusing and he didn't even try to make it easier, probably not anticipating thousands of unwilling teenagers would read his works hundreds of years later.

"I fucking hate Shakespeare," he groans, letting his head flop back against the arm of the couch. "When am I gonna use this shit anyway? It's not like I'm ever gonna need to know the themes of Macbeth for the job I want."

"Right?" Jerome walks into the room with two plates. He sits down on the empty third of couch Eddie's left, handing him one of the plates and keeping the other for himself.

Eddie shuts the lid of his laptop and rests the plate on top of it. He grabs the sandwich and takes a large, satisfying bite, chewing angrily. "The fuck has Shakespeare done for me anyway?"

"Must you chew with your mouth open?" Patricia shakes her head in disgust.

"Must you give a shit?" He shoots back, smirking at her as he swallows. "Did you finish the paper for English?"

"Yeah," Patricia replies. "I actually like Shakespeare. He was a damn genius, y'know. His storylines and everything, just…pure brilliance. I love reading his work."

"It's so hard to understand though!"

"That's why Sparknotes exist," Nina says. "You read the play and then the Sparknotes to get a summary of what happened so you make sure you didn't miss anything."

"Didn't you have to read Romeo and Juliet in year 10?" Mara asks, looking at him quizzically.

"We didn't read any Shakespeare in 10th grade." Eddie looks back at her, equally as confused.

"10th grade? What do you mean?"

"What do _you_ mean by year 10?" Eddie shakes his head. The American school system is so drastically different from the rest of the world's; he couldn't be more puzzled right now.

"That's ninth grade for us. We read Romeo and Juliet in 9th grade, but it's called year 10 here," Nina explains. "Right now, for us it's eleventh grade, but it's called year 12 here. It's weird, but you get used to it."

"The American way of doing things is so strange," Mara says. "They've adopted one way, while the rest of the world does things differently. Like with the metric system. That makes no sense to me. Why be the only country not to use it?"

"America's fucking stupid, that's why," Eddie mutters. "And that leaves people like me in a really shitty situation."

"You'll get used to it," Nina assures him. "If you want, I can help you out."

"That'd be amazing." Eddie smiles at her, before leaning down to take another bite of his sandwich. "This is really good, Jerry. Haven't had a sandwich this good in a while."

"Don't you have a paper to finish?"

"Don't remind me!"

"You have to get it done eventually."

"Why do you have to be right?"

Fabian smirks at him, and Eddie sighs heavily, polishing off his sandwich and opening his computer again.

"Fuck my life."

* * *

 **Please know that I'm not trying to condemn white people or make them seem awful, because they're not. However, this is not going to be something that can be conveyed to Amber in any other way. People of color have faced so many terrible things, and speaking out about them in this way is the only way to get people to hear them.**

 **Thoughts on that? On everything else? Next chapter is all Peddie. I think Fabian says all of three sentences, and the rest is just Eddie and Patricia. Hopefully that'll make up for the lack of it in the past two chapters. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and depression.**

* * *

"Hey, Eddie?"

"You're gonna have to go up to him," Fabian says, shooting her a sheepish smile. "His music's too loud for him to hear you. And he said he was gonna work on a song, so he's probably in a zone and won't even bother trying."

She nods, albeit reluctantly. She and Eddie are on better terms, but it's not like they're friends. It's not like he actually cares about her like he does Fabian and Jerome and the rest of the house. But she wants to talk to him, wants to get to know him better, wants to find out more about him. And if she goes directly through him rather than through Fabian or Jerome, he's more likely to tell her something.

She steps forward and taps his shoulder. He looks up instantly, immediately flipping his notebook shut. He pulls out one of his earbuds and raises an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if we could talk," she says nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her heart is racing even though it has no reason to. She's nervous for no reason. His presence just puts her on edge. She doesn't want to say something wrong and have him pissed at her. That's not going to help things any.

"I'm busy," he mutters gruffly. "Later."

"Please, Eddie." She knows she's begging, but she doesn't care. He understands her better than Joy ever could. She doesn't feel like she has to sugarcoat her feelings and tone things down when she's talking to him. He knows what it's like, and that allows her to be completely honest with him. "I have some things to tell you."

Eddie sighs. "Are you going to leave me alone if I say no?"

"Probably not."

"Fine." He pulls his phone out of his pocket and pauses the song. She's standing close enough to get a glimpse of the album cover, and she smirks.

"Pierce the Veil? Seriously?"

"Don't start," Eddie warns, pulling his headphones out of his phone and wrapping them around his neck. He slides off his bed and shoves his notebook under his pillow, before glancing back at her. "Where did you wanna go?"

"We could just walk around campus," she suggests. "Use the route Mick and Joy run."

"Lead the way."

They're silent as they make their way through the house and outside. She's got him to come with her, now she just needs to say something.

"Joy told me you asked her about Adam," Patricia starts, keeping her voice low. "I wanted to explain things a bit more. She won't tell you much because the story isn't hers to tell."

"I'm sorry," Eddie replies. "The last time we talked…it was just easier, to go to her instead of you. I shouldn't have done that."

Patricia shrugs. "I don't mind. I did have it coming. You obviously don't trust me yet."

"Have you given me a reason to?"

"I'm working on that," Patricia tells him. "Really, I am. But Adam…he broke me, Eddie. He broke me into pieces and I didn't know how to put myself back together for a really long time, after that. I didn't know how to fix what he broke because of how badly he did it."

"It's hard to put yourself back together after abuse," Eddie agrees. She sees a flicker in his eyes, a darkness, a sadness. Almost like he knows what she's talking about. She knows he's been through some rough shit, but she still has no idea what that is and what it's done to him. The day he trusts her enough to tell her will be a big day.

"Adam was really controlling." Patricia shoves her hands in her pockets and doesn't meet Eddie's eyes, instead staring straight ahead. "He was manipulative and he got jealous easily and that was his strategy; isolate me, make me cut my friends off so all my attention would be on him. Joy and I got in a pretty huge fight as a result. He'd always threaten to leave me if I didn't obey him, leave me all alone, and I couldn't risk that. I loved him and he loved me and now that I look back on it, it wasn't love at all. But he made me feel so good sometimes that I couldn't imagine life without him. So I fell for every trap."

"He played you like a puppet," Eddie says, in realization. "He knew how to get you to do what he wanted."

"And it was shit. We fought a lot," she admits. "I've been defensive since I was younger. It's just the way I am. He…didn't like that. He got me when I was most vulnerable, tore through my every line of defense. It's why I was such a bitch to you. Ever since him, I've become even more defensive. I'm just trying not to get hurt. It's stupid and I know that, but he really fucked me up, and now I'm left feeling like I can't trust anyone."

"It sucks, when someone makes you doubt your trust in everyone you know," Eddie replies. His voice sounds far away, like he doesn't realize who he's talking to or what the situation is. He sounds like he's somewhere else, trapped in a slew of memories that, judging by the expression on his face, can't be good. "You never really recover from that."

"Exactly," Patricia nods. "And it's really hard to deal with new people. I…I'm not trying to make excuses, because what I did was so fucking wrong, but you gotta understand…" She trails off, shaking her head and making a pointed attempt not to look at him. If she sees the anger on his face she'll start crying.

"I know why you did what you did," Eddie replies. "That doesn't make it okay, but I know why. And I can kinda understand where you're coming from. I know you're sorry. You've done your part with the apologizing…I guess this is where I come in, with the forgiving."

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve forgiveness," she says immediately. "That's not me asking for pity. I genuinely believe I don't deserve it. Even if we do become friends, you never have to forgive me for what I did, because I don't deserve it."

"We'll see what happens, Yacker." The corners of his lips turn up in a smile, and she smiles. She doesn't know what it is, but there's just something about Eddie that makes her feel different. He understands her, he's the first person who has, and that's new for her. She's used to feeling so alone and misunderstood, so isolated because no one can relate to her. And then Eddie comes along and changes everything. She feels more at ease when she's around him, like she can say what's on her mind and not expect to have to comfort him because he's hurting from knowing how shitty she feels.

"So, which Pierce the Veil album were you listening to? Not that it matters, they're all shit."

"Misadventures," Eddie replies. "And for your information, it's their best album yet. I love every single song on there."

"Of course you do. Because you like that whiny music."

"Whiny? At least that's better than a bunch of screeching."

"It's called screaming, and it's beautiful."

"Yeah, sure. Listening to a grown man just scream in your ear for three minutes is enjoyable. Totally look forward to that."

"It's not for the whole song! It's usually just the chorus."

"Because that makes it so much better." Eddie rolls his eyes. "At least I can understand what Vic is saying."

"Do you at least like My Chemical Romance?" Patricia asks. "Are you at least that cultured?"

"Like? Dude, I love MCR," Eddie replies, without missing a beat. "The Black Parade is my favorite album ever, like, in the history of albums."

"I wouldn't go that far," Patricia says. "But they're amazing. They got me through a lot of hard shit."

"MCR's just that balance of dark, depressing, brooding shit, and optimistic, we'll be okay, happy shit. It's good for every mood."

"There's never a situation MCR's not good in," Patricia agrees. "What about Green Day?"

"You've seen the poster in my room," Eddie deadpans. "Jesus of Suburbia is everything."

"Right? Joy hates them, says they're too angry, but I love them so much."

"Please tell me you like Blink, Good Charlotte, Panic, shit like that," Eddie says. "I don't know anyone who does, and I need someone to get why they're my therapy."

"Love all of them," Patricia replies. "They're my therapy too. You really have good music taste. If only we could get Pierce the Veil off that list, you'd have perfect music taste."

"Says the person who listens to Asking Alexandria!"

"They're so much better than Pierce the Veil!"

"On what planet?"

"This one!"

They fall into silence after that, just walking side by side. Patricia smiles, pulling her coat tighter around her body. She never imagined getting to this point. She can consider Eddie a friend – whether he considers her one is a different story, but at least she thinks of him as one. She can rely on him. She can talk to him. He's the first person to understand her. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't happy with her life at this point. If only she could erase all the shitty things she did to him, it'd be perfect.

"Do you ever think about killing yourself?" Eddie says, after a few moments have passed. He motions to the ledge they're walking past. "Like, have you ever thought about jumping off that? Because I have. And I know it's barely a six foot drop and I would just end up in the hospital, not dead, but I can't help it."

He's rambling and his breathing sounds messy, rapid, like he's wheezing. He's not having a panic attack, but he's quite close to one.

She stops walking, reaching up to grab his shoulders. He flinches back, but she doesn't move her hands, forcing him to look straight at her. "Eddie, you need to breathe. Take some deep breaths with me, okay? I really don't want you to have a panic attack."

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and inhales and exhales with her. He weakens under her hold, exhausted. He's out of the woods panic attack wise, but that doesn't mean the anxiety hasn't left him tired.

"Let's walk to that bench, okay?" Her own anxiety isn't a problem, surprisingly. She would've expected a panic attack by now. She's glad she's able to hold herself together. Eddie needs her to be the strong one. She leads him over to the metal structure, and they sit down, Eddie albeit shakily. She doesn't know whether his hands are shaking from the cold or from the anxiety.

"Sorry," Eddie whispers hoarsely. "I get too into my head sometimes and I overthink and this is usually the result."

"I know the feeling," Patricia agrees. "But to answer your earlier question, yeah, I do. Or at least I did. Suicidal ideation was one of my biggest problems after Adam. But I don't consider myself suicidal, at least, not anymore."

* * *

He's fucked.

He's actually getting really attached to Patricia, of all people, and it's fucking everything up. He wasn't meant to get attached to anyone, let alone the person who made his first two months at the school hell. But here he is, attached to Patricia, dreading when they have to stop talking because she's such good company.

He wants to tell her everything. More than he's told Jerome and Fabian. He wants to tell her all about what happened with his mom. She's revealed a ton about her past and Adam; it's only fair that he do the same.

And honestly, all the shit she said…it's not like he hasn't thought that about himself. It's not like hearing her say it was the first time he'd ever heard it. Most of the cuts on his arms can be attributed to him thinking the things she said before he even met her. And she's apologized numerous times and done whatever she could possibly do to make it up to him. There's nothing else for her to do. The ball is in his court now.

He lets his head flop back against the wall, pulling his left sleeve up. The cuts are healing and they hurt, but it's a good pain. He welcomes it. He enjoys it. He relishes in it.

Finding where Fabian hid his blades wasn't hard. Fabian's a really bad liar, so it was easy to detect based on his reactions to questions Eddie asked him. And he ended up finding all his blades. He only took one, knowing that if he took all of them Fabian would suspect something and find out about his relapse.

He's been clean for a month, and here he is, breaking the streak. He drags the blade across his wrist, and the pain blinds him. It hurts so fucking good. It's exactly what he deserves. He needs this.

He's let his guard down too many times. Too many people have seen him broken and vulnerable and that's not okay. He used to be so careful, in America. He wouldn't talk to anyone. He didn't trust anyone. It was him and only him. And now he's been here for a little over three months and all of that has been completely erased.

He wants to get closer to Patricia. He wants to talk to her more and more, like that conversation they had the other day. She coerced him into coming with her, and god, he's so fucking glad that she did. They got a chance to talk and to connect and he realized that the way he feels when he's around her is different, foreign. He's never felt that way around anyone.

He doesn't know what the feeling is. He doesn't know what to do with it. All he knows is that he wants to be friends with Patricia. He wants to tell her everything. He trusts her enough for that, and it's rushed and he probably should wait a little longer to see if she's really genuine, but he's never been the patient type. When he wants something he goes for it, dives straight into the deep end, not caring what's waiting for him when he hits water.

As he cleans up his arm and wrap bandages around the fresh cuts, he wonders whether Patricia feels the same way. She's said that he's the only person who understands her, so maybe this feeling is mutual. It's strange and it's weird but if she feels it too, it can't be wrong. He doesn't know what to do, but she might.

He reaches for his leather jacket and pulls it on, wincing when the sleeves pull at his fresh cuts. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to move on, how to go forward, what he's supposed to be doing in this situation. All he knows is that Patricia is basically forgiven, whether that's the best decision he's ever made or a choice he's going to regret for the rest of his life.

Patricia's finally forgiven, and he can't think of anything that makes him happier than knowing that someone understands him as well as she does.

He's not alone anymore.

* * *

 **Patricia's finally forgiven. Only took him 20 chapters, eh? (10 if you only count the ones she realized what she did was wrong in) It can only go uphill from here, but Eddie's battle is far from over. We're taking a tiny break from the Peddie, though. Next chapter is Jerome's visit with his father, finally, and he's an absolute mess. But trust me, there will be tons more Peddie scenes, now that Patricia and Eddie are friends...maybe more. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter. ;)**

 **Anyway, thank you guys so much for your reviews. 20 chapters is a great milestone, and I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying this. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	21. Chapter 21

**My little Christmas present to you all is a new chapter. :)**

 **Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of suicide, mentions of drug addiction, and self-harm.**

* * *

Inhale, exhale.

Just try to breathe.

Everything's gonna be okay.

He's been repeating those three phrases to himself all morning, but they're doing nothing to help. He doesn't feel okay. Nothing feels okay. He's about to see his father for the first time in eleven years and everything is so far from okay.

"Breathe." Mara leans in to kiss his cheek, and he tightens his grip on her hand. They're sitting in the waiting room, waiting to be called back, and he's terrified. He's been on edge all morning. He didn't sleep at all last night. He didn't eat breakfast. He's been nauseous since he "woke up". He's a fucking mess.

He's exhausted and nervous and scared, all at the same time. He doesn't want to do this. It isn't worth the hell he's going through right now. He feels like he's going to puke, even though there's nothing in his stomach. The constant headache isn't helping with that in the least. He just wants to die.

"Mr. Clarke? Your father is ready to see you now."

"Mars, I can't," he chokes out, tears welling in his eyes again. He's been crying all morning, and just when he thinks it's finally stopping, the floodgates reopen and he's back to square one.

"Oh no, Jerome, no," she sighs, using her thumb to wipe his cheeks. "You're doing so well. I am so proud of you. You're so strong. If you need to stop at any point, that's okay. I'll get you out of there. I'm here for you."

He stumbles to his feet, almost tripping, and stops, squeezing his eyes shut. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He can do this.

* * *

His grip on Mara's hand tightens as his father finally comes into view.

He's dressed in an orange jumpsuit. His beard is growing out but his hair is short, a dirty blonde color that matches Jerome's perfectly. Looking at his father is like looking at an older version of himself. He definitely didn't get his looks from his mother. But the nausea has increased tenfold and his heart is just determined to sprint this marathon.

Mara leads him over to the two chairs on the free side of the table. Mr. Clarke is sitting on the other side, just staring at him. Jerome inhales, as Mara urges him forward. They sit in the chairs and Jerome extends a shaky hand toward his father's outstretched one.

He meets his father's eyes but doesn't speak. He's sure that if he opens his mouth, all that'll come out is vomit.

"Jerome…it's been so long…" His father looks him up and down and Jerome fidgets uncomfortably. He'd rather be anywhere but here. He wishes he were back at Anubis house, cuddling with Mara or playing pranks with Alfie. Even being in school would be better than this. Mr. Sweet excused him for today, but he honestly wishes he were in class. At least then he wouldn't be on the verge of a really bad panic attack.

"You look great, son." He chuckles. "More like me than your mom, eh? Dunno whether that's a good or bad thing."

"What do you want?" He whispers, his voice breaking.

"What do you mean? I wanted to see you, to get to know you. You're my son. We should have a relationship."

"Am I?" He challenges. "Am I your son? I haven't known a father in eleven years. I don't even remember what that's like! You're not my father, you're just a fucking sperm donor."

Jerome's chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, watching his father wince. Good. He deserved every bit of pain that brought him. He deserves more.

"Calm down," Mara whispers to him, squeezing his hand. "You're doing great, just stay calm. I'm here, if you need me."

She's not trying to overstep, and for that he's grateful. She's sitting back, only there to help if he needs her. Otherwise, he knows she'd rather not involve herself. This is between him and his father and outside opinions will only complicate the situation.

"Who's this?" His father motions to Mara, changing the subject swiftly. The fakeness in his tone is evident. He's stalling, trying to avoid the deep shit. But this small talk won't work for long.

"This is Mara," Jerome replies, pulling his hand away from Mara's and wrapping that arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to him. "She's my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you," Mara says. "Your son is amazing. You should be very proud of him."

"He really is."

"How the fuck would you know?" Jerome exclaims. "You haven't bothered to contact me in eleven fucking years! You left me with my mother and she fucking abandoned me at boarding school like I was a burden to her! Do you have an idea what that did to me?"

"You need to calm down," Mara whispers into his ear, using her free hand to rub his back. "Your breathing is messed up, Jerome, please relax. You can't have a panic attack."

"I'm trying," he mumbles. "S'hard."

"Jerome, you need to listen to me," his father says. Jerome looks back at him, blinking rapidly to try and rid his eyes of tears. "I had no idea where you were until a couple months ago. I didn't even know if you were alive, kiddo. I'm in this hellhole because I messed up. I messed up really bad right after you were born, and I spent whatever time I had with you trying to be as good of a father as I could be – I knew this was coming. And your mother…god, she was something else. I shouldered the responsibility of taking care of you. I raised you. And then I got arrested and that's why you ended up in boarding school. I'm so sorry, Jerome. There aren't enough ways for me to say it. I messed up, and I'm paying for it, but I never wanted you to suffer too. I can't apologize enough."

It's a while before Jerome speaks again. He sits back, processing everything. It's a lot to take in, going from this extreme hatred of his father to some semblance of understanding. Everything he knew is now slowly being destroyed, and while that's a good thing due to the inherently negative nature of everything he's known, it's still hard for him to handle.

"I tried to kill myself," Jerome admits. He rolls up his sleeve and holds his arm out in front of them for his father to see. In the midst of a bunch of angry, red cuts is a long, white scar that travels the length of his forearm. "It was a while ago. When I was 14. It was clear then that mom was never coming back, and I hadn't heard from you in 9 years. No one wanted me. The world didn't want me. So I tried to leave." The floodgates finally burst, and tears begin rolling down his cheeks steadily. He ignores them, watching his dad's face for a reaction.

He didn't expect to reveal all that, but he needs his dad to know how much this all has impacted him. An apology doesn't make it all okay.

"I can't say I'm shocked," he replies. "Not that it doesn't make me feel even more guilty for what I'm done to you, but I'm really not shocked. I can't imagine how that must've felt. I'm so sorry. If I could've been there, I would've. I promise I would've. I'm not getting out of here for another three years, unless I can make it out on good behavior. But I doubt it."

"What'd you do?" Jerome asks. "It's already been 11. How bad could it have been?"

His father sighs and shakes his head. "I was a drug addict. The guys I bought from had been on the run for years, they'd already had previous offenses on their records. This would've been really bad for them. So they framed me. Made it look like I was selling. It's five years for possession, up to 14 for selling. I've never sold anything, but I couldn't prove it. So here I am."

* * *

Jerome practically falls into Alfie's arms as soon as he and Mara step into the house. Alfie's been standing at the front door for the past half hour, antsy and worried for his best friend.

Eddie watches as Alfie tightens his grip on Jerome and Jerome tucks his head into Alfie's shoulder. It's difficult, because of the height difference, but they manage to make it work. Jerome's just been through hell – he needs this.

Mara comes out from behind Jerome and rests her hand on his back, leaning in to whisper something into his ear. She steps back after a minute and joins them in the common room, leaving Jerome and Alfie to have their moment together.

"How bad was it?" Eddie asks. He bends his knees and pulls his legs in so Mara can join him on the couch. "Is he okay?"

"He got through it," Mara replies. "It was absolute hell, though. I think it was more the anxiety about seeing his dad, than anything. But he got a lot of the answers he needed. His anxiety just kinda overwhelmed him…he threw up the moment we got out of there."

Eddie nods, still looking over at Alfie and Jerome peripherally. "He's probably exhausted."

"I feel like absolute fucking shit," Jerome agrees. He joins them with Alfie by his side, stopping in front of Mara and lifting her off the couch. He sits down and she curls into his lap, resting her head on his chest. "That was really hard. But I needed it. And you guys have been amazing. Thanks."

"Love you, dude." Eddie nudges his shoulder and shoots him a smile. "We're all proud of you."

"We really are," Nina speaks up. "I can't imagine how hard that must've been. Do you…are you going to see him again?"

"I don't know if I can," Jerome says honestly. "Ask Mara, I was a fucking _mess_ the entire time. I don't know if I can put myself through that again."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Sorry that it's a little shorter than usual, but the next scene starts another little storyline that I want to post all in one chapter, so I had to cut it where I did. Jerome's got a lot of shit to deal with that's going to be made more apparent very soon. His past is really going to come into play now that he's heard what his father has to say. Next chapter, Joy learns what it's like to see the person she loves and treasures most at his worst, and that brings up a lot of repressed feelings that manifest themselves pretty badly. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. Merry Christmas to all you guys that celebrate it, and for those of you that don't, happy holidays. And for those of you who don't celebrate anything, I hope your day was good. :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Trigger warnings for depression, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

Joy doesn't notice something is wrong until she doesn't feel Mick beside her. She doesn't hear his steady breathing or his footsteps pounding against the pavement. She turns, and it's at that moment that her boyfriend groans in pain and every nerve in her body is alert.

Mick is sitting on the ground a few feet away, clutching his right leg to his chest. His face is twisted in pain. Joy is frozen for a few moments, just staring blankly at him. It's not until she hears him moan again that she snaps back to reality.

She forces herself not to cry, swallows against the lump in her throat and kneels beside him. She reaches for his hand and he grabs for it, immediately squeezing tightly.

"What hurts?" Her voice is shaky despite her best efforts to disguise her crying. There's no use in trying to hide it from Mick. He knows her well enough to see through her every mask.

"My shins were fucking killing and I rolled my ankle," Mick grunts. "I've been running too much. Shin splints, probably. And now a sprained ankle on top of that. Fuck my life."

"How come I'm fine?" Joy asks. "You and I go running together. How come you have shin splints and I don't?"

"Remember that few day stretch when you had a ton of homework and didn't come with me?"

"Mick you didn't," Joy whispers, shaking her head. "What the hell did you do?"

"Half marathons," Mick replies. "For the first time. And I felt good, afterward. My time was getting better each run. I was so proud of myself. But in the past couple days, my shins have been bothering me. It wasn't that bad. But now…"

The furthest they've run is close to 10 miles, and even that has been broken up by walk breaks or kissing breaks or some kind of distraction that splits the 10 miles into few 3-mile chunks. Mick ran 13 in one stretch, multiple days in a row – that's overuse at its finest. No wonder he has shin splints.

Joy swallows painfully. A hand lifts her chin and she squeezes her eyes shut.

"Joy, look at me." It takes her a few moments to open her eyes and give Mick her full attention, and when she does, she feels stupid for not doing it sooner.

Mick has the most reassuring look on his face. One look into his eyes and she can breathe again. She's calmer. Cutting used to bring that effect. Now it's her boyfriend, the man she loves more than anything in the world. Even though he's in severe pain and probably crying on the inside, he's still trying to make sure she's alright. He's the most selfless person she's ever met.

"Everything is going to be okay." Mick enunciates each word, and she knows he's trying to make her hear him. Sometimes when he says it, she isn't listening. It goes in one ear and out the other. He needs her to hear him. He needs her to internalize his words. "You're going to help me up and back to the house, we'll let Trudy work her magic on my ankle, and then you and I have the rest of the night to cuddle and relax, okay?"

She feels like crying at that. He's hurt, and he's the one comforting her. It should be the other way around, but she's too much of a mess to step into the comfort role. It has to be him.

"I love you," she breathes, leaning forward to kiss him. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"I love you too," Mick replies. "Help me up, okay? Let's go back to the house."

* * *

The pain is white hot, and it is burning.

The façade he put on for Joy is waning fast; all he can concentrate on is the pain that's slowly localized to his ankle and the top of his foot. He's limping, using Joy as a crutch, and every step is agony.

He's had shin splints before; he knows the pain all too well. He used to push himself way too hard when he was younger, and they were frequent. Combining that with an ankle sprain though, is hell.

He's an athlete. He's used to being injured. This isn't a surprise to him; it's not foreign at all. He's used to it. So why does it hurt so fucking badly? His shins are aching and his foot is absolutely killing him. He's forcing himself not to cry because he knows it'll worry Joy, but it's starting to become too much.

When they finally get to the door, Joy opens it and immediately calls for Trudy, while Mick squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe through the waves of pain as they come. He has his right arm wrapped around Joy's shoulders, but she's so much shorter than him that using her as a crutch only makes every step more painful. But it's better than hopping.

"Oh goodness," Trudy sighs, shaking her head. "Eddie! Alfie!"

"Fucking hell," Mick grunts, wincing. "It really hurts."

"What the hell did you do?" Alfie exclaims. He slides in next to Trudy with Eddie close behind, staring at Mick.

"Never mind that." Trudy dismisses their shock quickly. Mick can't help but be slightly annoyed. School's been stressing him out lately, he just hurt himself like an idiot, and he doesn't even have the chance to be angry about it because he has Joy to think about. This isn't the time for Alfie and Eddie to tell him how much of an idiot he is. He already knows that. "Can you two help him to his room?"

He inhales sharply as Joy ducks out from under his arm and Alfie takes her place. Eddie slides under his other arm, and Mick tightens his grip on their shoulders, hopping forward.

Every step sends more pain through his leg, and he feels a lone tear break from the barrier and slip down his cheek. Fuck, he's crying. It's so stupid. It's just a fucking sprained ankle, and it's probably not even that serious. Why the fuck is he crying?

"Breathe through it," Eddie advises. "You're gonna be okay."

They get him into his room and onto his bed, and he sighs in relief, relaxing against his pillows. Joy curls next to him, turning on her side and grabbing one of his hands in hers. She leans in to kiss his cheek. "You're so strong. I love you."

* * *

They end up having to go to the hospital.

Mick's ankle swells up really badly and the pain becomes too much, so they end up going to A&E. It's a grade 2 sprain, not extremely minor but not extremely severe either. No ligaments are damaged enough to need surgery – the only thing that'll heal his foot is rest. They wrap it, give him a pair of crutches, and send him back to the house.

He's correct in his self-diagnosis of shin splints. Those need to be iced as well. Walking isn't going to be pleasant for a while.

She's curled against him, resting her head against his chest as he dozes with his head tilted back against his pillows. His ankle is elevated and iced, but the sight hurts. She doesn't like knowing he's injured. She doesn't like knowing he's in pain.

She feels so stupid. It's a sprained ankle. A fucking sprained ankle. She's acting like it's the end of the world over a goddamn sprained ankle. She feels like a fucking dumbass. But it's not the fact that he has a sprained ankle, it's the fact that he got hurt at all. It's the fact that life is unpredictable and she could be falling asleep tomorrow night without him. He could get hit by a car. He could get shot. Something could happen to him and she wouldn't be able to control it.

Nothing is certain. And she can't bear him leaving her, even if it isn't his choice. She can't go through the pain again. It almost destroyed her the first time.

She swallows painfully, pulling up her left sleeve and tracing her fingers over the fading white scars. It's been so long. She hasn't done it in almost a year. She's almost a year clean, but she's so ready to destroy that. She's so ready to ruin everything she's worked for in the past year.

"Hey Joyless."

Joy jumps, cringing as Mick groans in his sleep. She lifts her head and kisses his cheek, rubbing his shoulder to try and soothe him back into sleep. He doesn't need to be awake right now.

"Jerome, you scared the shit out of me," she hisses, glaring at him. "What do you want?"

"Jesus," Jerome holds his hands up in surrender. "Sorry. I just wanted to see how Mick was doing. I heard you guys had to make a trip to A&E. But now it looks like you and I need to talk about relapsing."

"No we don't," Joy says quickly, pulling down her sleeve. "What makes you think that?"

"Don't tell me you weren't looking at your wrist hungrily," Jerome replies. "You looked like you wanted to rip at your skin with your fuckin' nails."

"Jerome, I-"

"You can't fight me on this," Jerome tells her. "Not when I've done it enough myself to know what you're thinking right now. You've been clean for almost a _year_ , Joy. Don't you wanna know how good it'll feel when you get to that one year without hurting yourself?"

"I don't think I'm gonna make it."

"Why?"

"Because everything is too much," Joy mutters. "You understand, don't you?"

"I do," Jerome replies. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna hand you a blade and say go for it. When's your one year?"

"In a month," Joy whispers. "But Mick just got hurt and I'm so scared and anxious and worried and that's my go-to when I feel like that so I don't know if I'll be able to last this week, let alone an entire month."

"It's not like the guy's in a coma or anything. He has a sprained ankle and shin splints," Jerome deadpans. "He's the same boyfriend he's been. Go to him. Talk to him. Let him in. You guys tell each other everything. Sometimes you guys make us look bad."

"He doesn't need my shit."

"Exactly how I justified not telling Mara about my dad," Jerome says. "But babe, he loves you. He loves you so much and he cares about you. He'd want to know how you feel. Trust me. It felt so good to tell Mara and not have to keep everything inside. You're not going to burden him."

"If I just cut once, I wouldn't even have to tell him. I'd feel so much better."

"You'd feel better?"

"Yeah."

"No you fuckin' wouldn't," Jerome mutters. He yanks his sleeve up and holds his arm out in front of her. Joy stares at the fresh cuts, the angry red slashes going up and down his forearm. She can barely make out faint white scars underneath, scars that have been hidden by Jerome's latest fit of sadness and anger.

"I was clean for over a fucking _year._ I was doing so well. Mara was so proud of me," Jerome growls. "But with everything regarding my dad, I couldn't take it anymore. So I relapsed, and I relapsed _bad_. Do you know how much it hurt, after I was done panicking, to realize what I'd done? I fucked up what I'd worked over a year for in one night. I went from being confident enough to have my sleeves up and my scars showing to hiding my arms and skittering around this place like a nervous wreck."

Joy pulls away from Mick and stands to hug him. She leans up to bury her face in his shoulder, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Jerome replies, resting a hand on her back. "I just don't want you to feel as bad about yourself as I did the morning after. It hurts. A lot. And now I'm not even sure I want to try and stop, because there's always going to be the chance that I freak out and do it again."

"You should try and stop," Joy mutters, glancing back at his wrist. She's a hypocrite for saying it, but he doesn't need to continue cutting just because she's considering it. There's no evening the score when in comes to self-harm. "You know how good it feels."

"I have a lot of shit to work through, with my dad." Jerome smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for that. But I know you are. I know you can do it. I know you can go this month without relapsing. And trust me Joy, you'll feel so good about yourself when you do. I'm so proud of you for making this far. I know you can do it for another month."

* * *

 **Thoughts? I didn't want Mick to be too badly injured, because it would take the same toll on Joy no matter what. This storyline's gonna be interesting. It'll give me the chance to explore the Jeroy friendship, something I've really wanted to do. I know you guys want Peddie, and here's the thing; this story is kinda meant to resemble the show with different subplots weaving together, so it can't be all Peddie. However, next chapter is winter break, and here's a little hint; Patricia, Eddie, and Jerome are the only ones that stay back. That's gonna lead to a lot of Peddie moments. So with winter break, next chapter also has a Neddie conversation that adds more plot. From the following chapter on, we're picking up with a few scenes to tie some loose ends together, and then onto the Peddie.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Trigger warnings - depression, character death, mentions of suicide, and mentions of abuse.**

* * *

"So, what are all of our plans for winter break?"

Amber's heart immediately begins to speed up at Fabian's question. It's an innocent one, an expected one at that. Winter break is in a week. They get two weeks off to spend with family, to go home and enjoy, but Amber's terrified. She and Alfie are going to spend a week with her parents and a week with his, and with everything that's gone on with her dad regarding Alfie, she couldn't be more scared.

"Hey," Alfie whispers, kissing her cheek. "I can feel you shaking, babe. You're okay. Everything's okay, I promise."

She lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding, tightening her arms around him. She breathes his scent in and relaxes, just trying to get her heart to stop racing. Alfie is everything. He makes her feel so much calmer, and it's like a breath of fresh air. When she's with him, she doesn't feel stressed and pressured and strained. He's her safe place.

"Well I'm staying here, obviously," Patricia mutters. "My parents are taking Piper on holiday."

"They didn't offer to take you with them?"

"They did," Patricia replies. "I turned them down. I don't wanna spend two weeks being told how perfect Piper is and reminded how much I pale in comparison."

"They're dicks," Joy says. "I don't blame you for not wanting to go with them."

"And I get to spend two weeks doing whatever the hell I want with no one there to tell me no. I can't fuckin' wait."

"I think I'm gonna stay too," Jerome says. "I…I need some time to work out some shit over my dad, and if I want to go see him again, I won't have to travel very far. But Mara wants me to come home with her…"

"I just want you to experience a traditional family Christmas," Mara tells him. "You've never had one, and I really think you'd love it. My parents love you."

"No they don't," Jerome mutters. "They loved _Mick_. Especially your dad. I'm just the fuck up who's burdened their daughter with too many of his problems. You had it so much easier, dating Mick. And now I come along and make your life so much harder than it needs to me."

"Hey," Mick interjects, holding up a hand. "They didn't _love_ me, first of all. And second of all, I'm actually really fuckin' glad Mara picked you, mate. It allowed me to figure out who I'm really in love with." He squeezes Joy's hand, smiling at her. "And I think you're great for her. She loves you."

"I really do," Mara agrees. "Listen, you don't have to come home with me. If it's too much for you, don't push yourself. But I really think you'd like it."

"Traditional family Christmases are a lot of fun," Nina says. "My gran and I go caroling and shopping, and I love it, but the best part is putting up the Christmas tree and decorating. There's just something about all of it that makes me feel all warm inside. It's such a happy time of year. And this year, Fabian's gonna share that with me. We're going to America for the two weeks to stay with my gran."

Amber watches in delight as a smile forms on Fabian's face at how excited his girlfriend is. He leans in to kiss her, and Amber's heart flutters with excitement. Nina is her best friend, and seeing her this happy is amazing.

"So now that we all know what Fabian and Nina are doing for Christmas," Eddie smirks. "I'm staying here, obviously. My dad has to, so there's nowhere I can go. Not that I'd wanna go anywhere with him."

"Isn't that a good thing though?" Jerome says. "Knowing you, that sounds like paradise."

"It will be," Eddie replies. "Music, songwriting, food…I'm gonna be living the fuckin' life."

"If that's all it takes to make you happy, you must live every day in paradise."

"Pretty much. Except for school stress."

"So that's Patricia, Jerome, Mara, me, Nina, Eddie…what about you guys?" Fabian turns to them, and Amber feels herself immediately start to panic. Her heart speeds up and she presses closer to Alfie, trying to hide the fact that the idea of staying with her father for a week is making her extremely anxious.

"We're gonna stay with my parents for a week, then go see Amber's dad," Alfie says quickly. "It's not anything big, just really casual and simple."

"That sounds really nice," Nina tells them. "You guys will have a lot of fun."

 _Sure. With my dad being the racist fuck that he is, I'm sure we'll have tons of fun._ She doesn't know how Alfie is able to do all this. He's willingly going to spend a week with someone he knows is racist, someone who discriminates against him based on the color of his skin…because he loves her. Alfie is the most amazing person she has ever met. She knows she doesn't appreciate him enough considering how much he's done for her. The sacrifice he's making, putting aside his feelings to try and have a semblance of a relationship with someone so awful…the respect Amber has for Alfie is unimaginable.

"Joy and I _were_ going to go to Australia and hang out with my parents…" Mick sighs. "I don't think that's gonna happen with my foot like this. Traveling that far's gonna be a bitch. We'll probably just go stay with Joy's dad for the two weeks. Give me a good chance to get to know him."

"That'll still be awesome," Patricia reassures him. "Joy's dad is one of my favorite people. You'll love him."

"My dad's one of the most caring and understanding people ever," Joy agrees. "He's struggled with depression and PTSD due to some shit that happened when he was younger, and that's kinda made him really open-minded and understanding…like, I actually _want_ to go to him if I have a problem, which is weird. But I love it so much. And he'll love you."

It hurts, hearing that. The contrast between her father and Joy's is immense. They are on completely opposite sides of the spectrum, and it sucks. Joy's dad loves Mick because of his care for his daughter's happiness, which is so much more than Amber can say for her own father.

All he cares about is reputation. He's obsessed with their family's reputation and making sure they are given the utmost respect. That's why her mom walked out when she was really young. She couldn't handle the lifestyle Amber's father had put into place, and honestly, Amber doesn't blame her. In fact, there are days she wishes she had been old enough to realize the scope of the situation when her mother did leave, so she could've gone with her. There's a part of her that would be completely okay with giving up the glamorous lifestyle she leads, just to be happy.

Material things are great and her love for expensive clothes and the newest makeup will never be staunched, but she loves Alfie so much more. She loves Alfie so much more than any object. He's taught her how to focus more on the people in her life than the things.

She remembers when she really started shifting her focus from the people in her life to the objects. It was just after her mother left. She didn't understand. All she knew was that her mom was there for a while, and then she just left. People leave. Things don't. That's why monetary objects started mattering more – they were a constant. They wouldn't just pick up and leave.

Alfie showed her how to get past that. He taught her how to trust people, to let them in and get over the fear that they one day might leave. He's done so much to help her get past her mom leaving and her father's tendency to act more like a businessman than a father.

* * *

"Hey."

"Oh, hey." Eddie looks up, pulling out his phone earbud and reaching down to pause his music. He lifts his arm, and Nina climbs onto his bed and curls up underneath it. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to see how you're holding up," Nina says. "It's a big adjustment, coming from America to here. Especially under your circumstances."

"What did Fabian tell you?" Eddie asks flatly, sighing. He knew this would happen. It isn't like he's surprised. Fabian tells Nina everything, his past is no exception.

"Nothing," Nina says, holding her hands up. "He didn't tell me anything. All I know is that you deal with some pretty bad anxiety. That sucks. I just wanted to know if you're doing okay. I wish I would've had someone to check up on me like that last year."

"Sorry," Eddie mutters. "I thought he would've told you. People usually do that with significant others. And it wouldn't be the first time someone's told a secret I've told them and I've been ambushed with the aftermath."

Nina chuckles. "Trust me, with Fabian, secrets stay secrets. If you tell him something you don't want anyone else knowing, he keeps it that way. He won't betray your trust for anyone, even me."

"Good to know."

"So, how are things with…Patricia?" Nina's voice wavers a bit, and he has to smile. The entire House has been treading lightly on this topic, and he really does appreciate it. They're giving him and Patricia space, and that's all he can ask for. It's so much better than being smothered and getting opinions from everyone that neither of them wanted.

"They're okay," he confesses. "I want to trust her. I want her to be my friend. And I think she is. I just…I don't know."

"Patricia's a good friend to have when you need to talk," Nin tells him. "She's a good listener. And she's not overly emotional. She's protective of the people she loves and a real bitch to anyone who tries to hurt them. And honestly, she's a little broken, from everything she's been through. But it's all made her stronger. She's come out of it that much stronger than she was when she went in."

"She told me about Adam," Eddie says. It's safe to assume Nina knows about Adam because of how she talks about what went on last year. She speaks of it as if she was personally involved, which she probably was. Eddie still has no idea what exactly happened. All he knows is that it wasn't good.

"Did she also tell you how she tried to kill herself twice last year?"

Nina's voice is softer, sadder. It takes on this empty tone that Eddie didn't even realize she was capable of talking in. She sounds so much different than she usually does. It's kinda unsettling.

"She did," Eddie replies. "That must've really sucked. I'm sorry."

"It brought us closer together," Nina says wistfully. "As a house. It really did. We talked about mental health more. We trusted each other more. We really became a family, after that. These guys, you guys, are so much more to me than friends. You're my family."

"Fabian's said the same thing…I just had no idea it was Patricia's suicide attempts that brought that on, jesus…" He assumed that those suicide attempts happened during a school break or summer vacation; not once did he think that Patricia actually tried to kill herself during the school year and the rest of the house had to deal with it. Part of him is on edge, realizing that if he tried to commit suicide, they'd know what to do, having been through it twice before. He'd be saved. It scares him. But he shakes his head, pulling himself together and snapping out of his thoughts. It's a slippery slope from where he's at.

"We learned so much more about each other after that. The night she came home, the first time…we all sat in the attic and just talked. We told our stories, the little details that not everyone knew about. We talked about those shitty feelings people usually never express. We told each other about our problems, and we realized that we weren't alone. That was one of the best nights of my life," Nina replies. "I felt so much closer to everyone. And now that you've joined us, trust me Eddie, you fit right in."

"I've always wanted something like that," Eddie mumbles. "I didn't have friends, in America. Not real ones. Not people who loved and cared about me for _me_. It was awful. I felt so fucking alone. But now, even with all that's happened with Patricia, I still feel like I have people. It's the best feeling in the world."

"My parents died two years ago," Nina mutters. Eddie feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach as the words hit him. It's like someone drew the shade on any traces of positivity seeping into this conversation. He didn't expect that at all. "It was a car accident. We were driving home from the grocery store, and it was dead winter. And you know how bad it gets up north. There was black ice. Another car skidded and hit us, and well…they died."

"I am _so_ sorry," Eddie whispers. He can't imagine that pain. Losing not one, but both parents all in one night? And she was only 14. She was so young. That's not fair. She didn't deserve that. But now things are starting to make sense. Nina talks about her gran like she's a mother, and Eddie finally understands why. He always thought it was strange, but never wanted to bring it up in fear of opening a wound that was still raw. "I had no idea…"

"I wanted a fresh start, after everything," Nina says. "That's why I came here. My gran moved to where we lived to try and make everything easier on me, but I just couldn't handle being there. And coming here really opened up my eyes to mental illness and the problems people have. I kinda lived this sheltered life back home. My parents were in love and my house was full of it, so I grew up really innocent and sheltered from the shitty parts of the world. But after they died…the world became a lot less beautiful and a lot more ugly."

"Sometimes the world really fucking sucks," Eddie agrees. He's had his fair share of the same. All he's ever known is ugly. The world has never been kind or beautiful to him, so he's learned to lower his expectations. He doesn't think he'll ever find the world beautiful. It's never done anything positive for him. The only good thing to ever happen to him was getting out of his mom's house and coming here.

"But sometimes it can surprise you," Nina says. "Meeting everyone here…meeting _Fabian_ was the best thing that could've ever happened to me. We clicked instantly. We were-"

Eddie chuckles, holding up a hand. "I don't wanna hear your sappy ass love story, thanks."

Nina slaps his arm. "Shut up and listen. Fabian and I were best friends at first. We didn't get together until the end of last year. And even then, we were hesitant because we were afraid to ruin the friendship that we had. He's my best friend first, my boyfriend second. And he's the best friend I've ever had."

"I want that," Eddie replies. "I want that so fuckin' badly, you have no idea. That's the dream. Falling in love with your best friend. But I guess I've never really had a best friend. I've never really had someone I felt like I could tell everything to. I've always been afraid that I'd get judged or the person would rat me out. But it sucks having no one too. So I guess I'm just destined to feel like shit about myself."

"Hey, stop," Nina chides gently. "Don't talk like that. And, honestly? Everyone in this house is a good person to be best friends with. They're all genuine. You could tell any one of them anything and feel confident in the fact that they wouldn't rat you out or use what you say against you. You just gotta give people a chance. Not everyone is shit."

"I'm bad at opening up," Eddie confesses. "I've been fucked over so many times before that I'm scared to be hurt again."

"Sometimes ripping off the band-aid and just trusting someone is all it takes," Nina says. "You spend your entire life holing up because you're afraid to get hurt again and you probably won't get hurt, but you also won't have a _life_. You'll spend all your time on-edge, making sure you don't spill more than you're supposed to. Is that really the life you wanna live?"

* * *

 **Thoughts? If it wasn't obvious, I'm taking some liberties with their parents, specifically Amber and Joy's fathers. It adds more to the story, so I hope you guys are okay with that. By the way, I really am serious about updating quicker if I get more reviews, otherwise I usually update Fridays. This next week could change that though. I have a lot of tests and projects and papers due, so I won't have time to write. Anyway, the next chapter brings a Alfie/Jerome conversation that is very necessary, and Eddie finally takes Patricia up on her offer to hang out. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	24. Chapter 24

**I'm sorry this took so long to post, guys. I had some writing to do and I meant to do it this weekend, but the stomach flu happened and I instead spent the weekend puking. I have finals and a ton of work the next couple weeks, and those need to take priority, so I don't know if you'll get a chapter this Friday. I'm hoping I can post one, but if not, forgive me. School's taking over my life right now.**

 **Trigger warnings - racism, depression, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and anxiety.**

* * *

"I need you to ditch with me."

"Why?" Jerome stops, blazer half on, and glances across the room at Alfie. He hasn't started getting ready yet, and they have to leave in the next twenty minutes. This is really unlike Alfie, and it's worrying. Jerome knows something is wrong – they've been friends long enough for him to be able to tell that there's something wrong with Alfie through body language and facial expression. "What's going on?"

"Please." Alfie finally looks at him, and Jerome's heart immediately picks up speed when he sees the tears in Alfie's eyes. They're bloodshot and glassy, not to mention the dark bags underneath.

Jerome pulls his blazer off and steps over to Alfie's side of the room. He takes a seat next to him on the bed and wraps an arm around Alfie's shoulders. His heart is still beating too fast. Alfie's his best friend. The first person to ever really care about him, understand him, love him…Alfie is someone special. They're partners in crime, the pranking duo, but more than that…Alfie is the one person he knows he can go to with anything. Alfie was the first person Jerome trusted. Alfie was the person he took a risk with, and he's more grateful every day that he did. When Alfie hurts, Jerome does too.

"Amber's dad doesn't like me," Alfie whispers. His voice is hoarse and it cracks on the first word. Jerome knows there's something far more than that. Alfie doesn't care what people think of him. He never has. He's the one that's spent nights up late with Jerome, trying to get through to him that people's opinions don't matter. Amber's dad just not liking him wouldn't affect him this much. "Amber's dad doesn't like me because I'm black."

There's the kicker.

Jerome feels like he's been dunked in a vat of cold water. The feeling is spreading all over his body, cool and uncomfortable. He can't even process what Alfie just said. He can't _begin_ to wrap his head around those words because they're so ridiculous.

He knows this isn't about him. He knows he's not supposed to react. Alfie needs his comfort. Alfie needs him to be the strong one. That's why he's telling him this. Alfie can't be strong right now. He needs Jerome to be the strong one.

His head is making him feel anything but strong, but his heart is forcing him to swallow all the emotion. "Did he tell you that?"

"Amber told me," Alfie replies sullenly. A tear breaks from the dam and starts trailing down his cheek. "She said her dad doesn't think I deserve her. Because of the goddamn fucking color of my skin!"

A sob tears through his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut. Jerome inhales sharply, gritting his teeth together and shaking his head. He can't get angry. This isn't the time. His anger is more than warranted, but it's not what Alfie needs right now.

He pulls Alfie into a hug, and Alfie's face finds his shoulder immediately. Jerome swallows against the lump in his throat and rests his chin on top of Alfie's head, rubbing his back firmly. "I want you to listen to me, okay?"

Alfie grunts in reply, but doesn't move. Jerome squeezes him impossibly tightly and breathes out, sighing. This is a conversation he's never dreamed of having. He's never even _fathomed_ having to say this.

"You are one of the best people I've ever met. You're funny and you're kind and caring and you make people, you make _me_ laugh, when all I want to do is cry. You love and you love hard, and it fuckin' shows. You put so much love and care into things you're passionate about, and it is so goddamn evident. And one of those things, people rather, is Amber. You love her so hard, and god, I've waited for years for you to find someone who makes you as happy as she does. I didn't think you guys would last at first." Jerome has to chuckle, especially when Alfie balls one hand into a fist and punches him lightly in the back. "But, as time passed, I realized how good she is for you and how good you are for her. You're a fuckin' amazing boyfriend, Al. You put me to shame sometimes. But somehow, some way, her dad thinks you're inferior because you're black. And that couldn't be more untrue."

He pulls away from Alfie and looks straight into his eyes, using his thumb to wipe away tears. "It really fucking sucks that it's 2013 and we're still dealing with racism, but that's the world and it's fucked up. None of that changes the fact that you deserve Amber and you deserve to be happy and you deserve it more than anyone I've ever met. Her father is so fucking wrong that if I started to tell you why we'd be here for days. Your love is so much stronger than any shitty opinion he has. Remember that. Please."

Alfie sighs. "We're going up there for break. We're leaving tomorrow. And I'm so fucking scared. I've been trying to stay strong for Amber, because she's scared too. She hates him for this, she hates all of it, and she's so scared of what he's going to say when he sees us in person. So I've been trying to be strong, but I can't help how fucking terrified I am."

"That's okay," Jerome says gently. "That's more than okay. You have every right to be scared. And if you don't want to go, you don't have to. Don't put yourself in a position that'll destroy you. I don't know if I'm gonna be able to pick up the pieces, Al. I'll try my fuckin' best, but you know how you get…"

Alfie nods. "I want to go. I want to prove to him that I'm good for Amber. May have to take some racist shit, but she's worth it."

"No," Jerome says firmly. "Dating a girl doesn't mean dealing with her racist father. I'm not saying you have to break up with her, but you don't have to see him. You don't have to talk to him. If he hates you for the color of your skin, he doesn't deserve your time of day. Don't sacrifice your mental state for her, Al. Please. Even if you don't care about yourself right now, _I_ care about you. You need to put yourself first. Promise me you'll do that."

Alfie swallows. "I promise."

* * *

"Hey, wanna go somewhere with me?"

Patricia plops down on his bed and grabs his phone. "Are you kidding me? Haven't you learned by now? Sleeping With Sirens are even worse than Pierce the Veil!"

"At least they're not fuckin' Motionless in White," Eddie mutters, closing his notebook. "The hell do you wanna go? Everyone's leaving tomorrow, shouldn't we stick around to hang before they go?"

"We have tonight for that," Patricia replies. "And besides, Fabian and Mara are doing last minute schoolwork, Nina and Amber are having their girl time before they leave each other for two weeks, Jerome and Alfie haven't come out of their room since this morning, and Joy's tending to oh so injured Mick," Patricia recites. "It's not like we're sitting around the fire and talking serious shit. You're not missing anything. Let's go to the park."

* * *

"Holy fucking shit."

Patricia grins. "Like it?"

"When you said a park, I didn't think you meant a skate park!" Eddie stares at the ramps in front of him in awe. "This is fuckin' unreal."

"I do a little skateboarding, myself," Patricia replies. "I thought you and I could just skate around for a while, and then talk about some things. Good?"

"Perfect," Eddie says. "Now I see why you told me to bring my board."

He gets a running start and glides easily, settling back into his old ways with no problem. He remembers skateboarding fondly. He remembers boarding to and from the train station before and after school. He remembers getting out of his house and just skateboarding into the distance, not caring where he went as long as it was away from his mom and stepdad.

Skateboarding was his way to escape. It was his way to get out of his house, to get away when things became too much. He relied on that. New York City is a bitch to drive in and public transport isn't always the most reliable thing on the planet. It was him and his board on whatever journey it took him on, and he loved every moment. Even though he hasn't done it in a while, he'll always love skateboarding. It means so much that Patricia knew that and decided to bring him to a skate park.

"I swear you were about to hit that wall!" Patricia calls from behind him, passing him quickly and then skidding to a halt a few feet away. He stops as well, putting one foot on the ground. "How'd you know to turn? You looked zoned out."

"I was," Eddie replies. "It's instinct, I guess. Been doing this for a long time."

"You weren't kidding about how much skateboarding you did in America, were you?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I grew up in a big city. Having a car is a bitch. People usually take the subway and don't bother with them. Skateboarding was a hobby and a way to get places for me, more than anything. So yeah, I did a fuckton of it."

"Tell me more about America," Patricia invites. She motions to a patch of grass under some trees and grabs her board. "Let's sit."

He knows she's going to want to hear about his life in another country, but it's the same as before; he didn't have one. He went to school, came home, got beaten up, got raped, cut himself, wrote songs, and spent every night wishing it were his last. That's not much of a life. It's been a while since he's thought about his life back in America because of everything going on here, but he can never really forget anything.

He can't forget constantly showing up to school with fresh bruises and black eyes, how his teachers and the school nurse eyed him suspiciously and threatened to call his parents more times than he could count. Little did they know, it was his parents that caused the bruises. He can't forget the morning after he'd been raped for the first time, being forced to go to school so nothing would seem out of the ordinary. He remembers going to the bathroom at school and it fucking burning, he remembers the blood and he remembers how fucking disgusting he felt, all over, like a disease absorbing itself into his skin.

"Eddie, where the hell are you? You keep zoning out."

He shakes his head and glances up at Patricia, noticing the tightness in his chest almost immediately. It'd dissipated over the weeks, as he slowly got acclimated to his new environment and became comfortable. Now that he's back to thinking about his mom and stepdad, everything's coming back. The tight chest, the heavy head, the racing heart, and the trembling have all returned with a vengeance. He's surprised Patricia hasn't noticed. If she has, she hasn't said anything. For that, he's grateful.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Just overthinking. I've had kinda a shitty day."

Patricia's eyes soften. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to tell about it…but do you wanna tell me about it? I don't know how much I'll help, but I can try."

He shrugs. "Nothing really happened…do you ever just have those times where you start thinking and somehow literally think yourself into a shitty place? That's what this it."

"Oh, that." Patricia nods. "I hate that. It's so fucking annoying. One minute I'm fine, the next I want to shoot myself."

"Exactly," Eddie replies. "Fuck depression. It makes life so much fucking harder. I don't think people really understand how much it fucks things up until they have it."

"I _know_ people don't understand how much depression fucks things up until they have it." Patricia rolls up her sleeve and holds out her arm. "And they don't understand this, either."

Eddie sighs. He shrugs out of his jacket and holds both arms out in front of Patricia. "I don't have a weird obsession with my leather jacket, but you probably figured that out. Fabian knows. He hid my blades. I found them. He wouldn't get it."

"Fabian's never really gotten it," Patricia tells him. "He didn't get why I did it, or why Joy used to. But I guess that's a good thing. It means he's never felt that pain and desperation. But jesus christ, Eddie. These look bad."

Eddie watches her eyes travel from the jagged, angry slash marks to the dried blood caking the ends. He knows his arms look bad. When he first started cutting he was afraid of the scars, but now he's accepted that he'll die before he's able to feel bad about it. He'll die before he recovers.

"My panic attacks are bad. My anxiety is bad. My PTSD is bad. Of fuckin' course these are too. I don't cut up my flesh for fun."

"Eddie-"

"It's the only thing that helps me calm down. The sight of my own blood is therapeutic. I'm sure you get that, don't give me shit for it."

"I do get it. But that doesn't mean it isn't scary."

"I thought you could handle scary."

"I can."

"Good." Eddie pushes to his feet and grabs his board. "I'm gonna skate around for a bit. Let me know when you're ready to head back."

* * *

 **How scary can Patricia _really_ handle? We're about to find out. ;) Thoughts? Next chapter we're looking at the aftermath of this, everyone finally leaving for winter break, and Patricia coming to terms with exactly how far down Eddie is. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter. **

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Trigger warnings - depression, suicide, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, mentions of anxiety, and panic attacks.**

* * *

She can handle scary.

She can handle the blood, the harsh realities of self-harm, the ugly truth of depression, the rawest suicidal thoughts. Eddie's problems aren't what has her uneasy. What's getting to her is the fact that he reminds her so much of herself right before she attempted suicide. Both attempts, she knows how she felt and how she looked, and Eddie is becoming dangerously reminiscent of them.

The really scary part is the influx of information. Eddie's probably forgotten that she wasn't privy to knowledge about his issues the way the rest of his house was. All she knew was that he had pretty bad anxiety. She didn't know about the suicidal thoughts, the PTSD, the _depression_.

Eddie hasn't come right out and said he has depression, but it's easy to see. Depression may not look the same on everyone, but to someone who's been diagnosed with it, it's easy to pick out. She knows the signs. She knows that the isolation, the excessive sleeping, the overall distant and sad demeanor are remnants of his depressive episodes bleeding through his carefully crafted façade. Eddie's a good actor, but she's a better analyst.

She's torn between needing to tell someone and not wanting to betray his trust. She knows that if Joy had told on her when she was at her worst they'd no longer be friends, but Eddie's teetering dangerously on the edge, and he needs more help than she's sure she'll be able to give. He needs more than what she has. Betraying him may be her only option.

She doesn't want to. It's a last resort. She wants to try and help him see the light on his own. Once she realized that the world was so much less of an ugly place, things got easier. And of course, every day isn't good. She has her shitty days just like anyone else, moreso than others due to the bitch that is depression. She has days where she doesn't want to get out of bed, days where relapse is the only thing that sounds appealing, days, like Eddie said, when she looks at every ledge with the desire to jump off it.

She has those days, but they're not every day of her life. She has way more control than he does. And it really does scare her, how far down he is and how much of a disregard for his life he has. There's obviously a reason for it, although she isn't sure he'll tell her that much. She's pushing her luck with what she's already gotten from him.

Eddie's falling apart, not that he wasn't before he got to the school, but it's so much more noticeable now, and it's terrifying. Winter break is starting, and it'll just be her, Eddie, and Jerome. She doesn't have a distraction without school. All she has left is to try and talk to him. Surround him with people, those being herself and Jerome, who's got more issues of his own than he can deal with, let alone some of Eddie's. It'll be difficult. But surrounding him with people ensures him not being alone and left to his thoughts and suicidal ideation.

She knows it won't be easy. She knows he'll probably hate her for it. But it's the only thing she can do, besides going to Mr. Sweet, and she knows he'd definitely hate her more if she told his father on him.

It just has to work.

* * *

"I'll see you guys next year!"

"That is the worst joke in the world, jesus fucking christ!" Eddie pulls Fabian in for a hug. "You gotta get some new ones in America."

"Really though," Fabian whispers into his ear. "Text me. When you want to cut. If you need to talk. When you can't sleep. Text me when you're bored, for god's sake. I don't want you to slip back into your old ways just because we're all leaving. You have Patricia and Jerome here, and the rest of us are just a text away."

Eddie swallows. "I know." If only he knew. If only he knew that "old ways" never existed, because Eddie hasn't reformed at all. He's still used to his old habits, he still cuts himself, still thinks about killing himself, still wishes his mom had aborted him when she had the chance. He's heard it enough times from her to have internalized it and started believing it himself.

He pulls away from Fabian and hugs Nina next, squeezing her tightly. When she pulls back, she grabs his shoulders and looks straight into his eyes. "Text me if you need me, okay? And if I don't answer, you know Fabian will. New Jersey's five hours behind, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't text us at 4 am when you're having a panic attack."

"How'd you-"

"Fabian's slipped out of bed early in the morning more times than I can count." Nina shoots him a sheepish smile. "I got curious. Don't worry, he doesn't even know I know. Don't sweat that part. Just remember that you're not alone, okay?"

"I know."

"Bye guys!" Both of them wave frantically as they get into the taxi. Eddie waves back equally as vigorously, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck. It snowed last night, and the temperatures are still below freezing. That's one thing that hasn't changed, coming from America to England. Seems like everything else has.

"Hey Jerry, you good?" Eddie nudges Jerome in the side, and he jumps, blinking. Mara left just before Fabian and Nina did, and Jerome's been off in space ever since.

"Yeah, sorry." Jerome shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. "I miss her already, y'know? Dunno how I'm gonna get through two whole weeks."

Eddie stares at him. "I'm really offended, man. Am I not good enough company? I make you sandwiches, we listen to classic rock together, I thought we had a thing going!"

"We do," Jerome chuckles. "But it'll never measure up to the thing Mara and I have had for the past year."

Eddie shrugs. "Is this your first Christmas apart?"

"No," Jerome replies. "This is how it usually happens, with any break, not just this one. She goes to visit her family, and I stay back. She went freshman year with Mick, and they loved him. I'm nothing compared to that. I've been nervous to go with her because of it. That's why I stayed back last year. And this year, y'know…"

"How bad was it?" Eddie asks. "Really. Was seeing your dad as awful as you thought it'd be?"

"Worse."

"I didn't wanna bring it up…you needed time and I wanted to give you that. But I'm worried, Jerry. Now that everyone's gone, do you wanna talk about anything?"

"I guess you can share in my frustration, can't you?" Jerome mumbles.

"It doesn't have to be like that," Eddie tells him. "Not if you don't want it to be. Trudy baked a batch of cookies this morning. We could pig out and just talk about anything, you, me, and Patricia."

Jerome smirks at him. "Why so quick to include her all of a sudden? Is there something you wanna tell me?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "She and I, I guess, we're kinda friends now. I dunno."

"Are you sure you're not _more_ than friends?"

"Are you sure you _want_ to be kicked in the dick?"

"Just fucking with you," Jerome replies, nudging his shoulder. "But yeah, that sounds nice. Let's do it."

* * *

Patricia hasn't said much.

She knows it's weird. She knows it's unlike her. But watching Eddie and Jerome interact and share dark jokes and depressing humor is too intriguing for her to be adding in on the conversation. They have something in common; both of them have really shitty relationships with their dads. Patricia's relationship with her father isn't great, but she has it good compared to them. She can't imagine how bad it feels to be abandoned by someone who's supposed to love and care for you.

"Honestly, all I want for Christmas is a rope and some pills," Eddie says. Patricia feels her heart start to race at his words. She knows he's probably joking, but that doesn't make it any less scary. She's terrified he might actually go through with suicide.

"Suicide pact?" Jerome jokes, playing along. Patricia watches Eddie laugh, holding out a hand. They shake on it, and she feels her heart sink even further. She's so scared he's serious. He probably isn't and she's probably overreacting, but she can't help it.

"You've been quiet, Yacker," Eddie observes, turning to her. "What's eating you?"

"Just thinking," Patricia says quickly. "Sorry."

"About what? We can talk about our real feelings without feeling like people are gonna get hurt, that's one of the only good things about everyone leaving." Jerome turns and scoots against the arm of the couch, stretching his legs out onto Patricia's lap. "I love Mara, don't get me wrong, but I feel like I have to censor my real thoughts when I'm around her and it sucks."

"I guess I'm just…" She trails off, shaking her head. "I dunno, some days I think about relapsing for no reason, just for the sake of doing it, and I hate it. I don't have a reason to cut, so why is my mind telling me to? It fucking sucks."

"Don't," Jerome warns. He rolls up one of his sleeves and holds out his arm to her. Patricia stares at the slashed, torn up skin. "I did this the morning we went to visit my dad, and I'd been clean for a _year_ before that. Realizing what I did made me hate myself even more for being weak."

"You're not weak, though," Eddie points out. "That's your default, and visiting your dad was really traumatic for you. I can say that I've cut after every meeting with my dad. And it sucks and I hate myself more and more every time for doing it, but I haven't found a better coping mechanism."

It hurts her to hear him say that. It hurts even more when he rolls up one of his sleeves and she gets a good look at his arm. There's dried blood and deep, angry, jagged slash marks everywhere. He's running out of room on his forearm to cut, and that part scares her the most. She remembers when she used to run out of room and would resort to reopening healing wounds or cutting her thighs. She has so many scars from it all.

Staring at both his and Jerome's arms has her feeling sick. It's not helping with her urges to relapse, that's for sure. She swallows hard, closing her eyes. "Guys…can you not? Not a good idea when I wish that could be me."

"Shit," Eddie mutters, pulling his sleeve back down. "Sorry Yacker. I forgot."

Jerome does the same, but says nothing. He turns so he's sitting properly on the couch and scoots over to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Sorry," he whispers in her ear. "We didn't realize."

"It's okay," Patricia says. "But you both are kinda scaring me. You remind me a lot of me, last year. Right before I tried to kill myself."

"I'm not suicidal," Jerome says immediately. "At least, not really bad. Some days I wake up and realize this could all be over if I just had the guts do it, but I don't have that courage. Maybe that's a good thing. But it's gotten a lot better, I promise."

Patricia remembers Jerome pulling her aside at the end of last year and confessing his suicidal ideation to her in graphic detail. She remembers relapsing at the end of it, something he still doesn't know about. That's what sucks about all of this. She tries so hard to be there for her friends, but she's mentally ill too and that gets in the way sometimes.

But now, hearing Jerome say he's not suicidal anymore is a big step in the right direction. She spent a lot of the summer with him, not wanting him to be alone with his thoughts. He's one of her best friends. He's the person she goes to when she wants to talk about really dark things. Joy's great, but Patricia still feels that sense of guilt when she has to talk to her about the really dark stuff.

She knows how much of a toll it took on her last year. Joy was cutting because she felt so guilty and hated herself for not being able to help. Patricia triggered her. She didn't even realize it until afterward. That's why she tries not to go to Joy as much anymore. She hates seeing her suffering, and it was even more of a blow when Patricia realized it was her fault.

Eddie changes the subject, and Patricia sighs, resting her head on Jerome's shoulder and trying not to let her tendency to overthink and overreact screw things up.

* * *

 **Couple of things; first off, the joking about suicide. I don't condone joking about suicide, it's a very serious matter that shouldn't be joked about, but in this case, Eddie's using it as a coping mechanism. A lot of people use humor and sarcasm to cope, and that's what he's doing. He definitely knows and understands the severity of suicide considering he's actually suicidal, and although Jerome currently isn't, he has been in the past and does get it. All three of them have tried to end their lives so they do get it. Just wanted to make that clear.**

 **Secondly, we're getting to the real dark stuff here, guys. It's gonna be pretty heavy for the next few chapters. They're gonna talk about some dark things and Eddie's going to be forced to confront some stuff he's been pushing to the backburner with school taking his focus. If that stuff is gonna trigger you, I wouldn't advise continuing to read this.**

 **And finally, the stuff you actually want to hear. Next chapter, Eddie really begins to understand what his life is going to be like without Fabian around to be his safety net, and that leads to some devastating consequences... The more reviews I get, the quicker you guys get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Heavy trigger warnings for rape, abuse, and panic attacks.**

* * *

"Since everyone's gone, do you wanna sleep in Fabian's bed for the break?"

Eddie blurts the question out before he has a chance to stop himself. It's dumb and he sounds like a needy child, but he can't help it. He's gotten used to sharing a room with someone. He misses the sound of Fabian's breathing. Fabian always used to fall asleep before him, and Eddie would just let his steady breathing lull him to sleep. It's so weird falling asleep to silence now.

Jerome looks up at him, and Eddie can't quite pinpoint the look on his face. "What?"

"I've had issues sleeping all my life, and I've gotten used to Fabian being in the room, and now there's no one and it's fucking me up, okay?" Eddie says in a rush. "I know I'm being a baby and I should just suck it up, but I can't."

"Whoa, calm down." Jerome stands and faces him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why're you so nervous? I don't bite. And I don't mind. It's been really lonely in here without Alfie and Mick; I was thinking of asking you the same thing."

He knows Jerome's lying for his benefit, but he doesn't care. Jerome is used to this. He's been staying at the house on breaks ever since he got here. This is Eddie's first time. It'll be the hardest for sure.

"I know I'm a wreck." He swallows hard, avoiding Jerome's eyes. "I know I'm pathetic. If you really don't want to, you don't have to. I can handle things on my own."

Jerome doesn't answer and his heart sinks further, until he's pulled into a tight hug. Jerome squeezes him tightly, and Eddie sighs, burying his face in Jerome's shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You're not a wreck," Jerome murmurs. "And you're not pathetic either. Come on, talk to me." He maneuvers them so they're both sitting on his bed. "I know you've been through some rough shit, and I haven't tried to pry, but you've been a mess recently and I'm worried. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Eddie insists, lifting his head and rubbing at his eyes. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"You really must be out of it if you think I actually believe that."

"I'm fine," Eddie repeats. "It's a bad day. Everyone has bad days."

"Every day is a bad day for you," Jerome deadpans. "It's more than that. Patricia said this morning that you were scaring her, and I see what she means."

"She thinks I'm gonna go off the deep end and kill myself."

"Is that really so far-fetched?" Jerome asks. "With the way you've been acting, I kinda agree. And honestly, your arms scare me too. You might not intend to kill yourself but accidentally cut too deep. That's the even scarier part."

This is new for him. He's not used to having people worry about him. Back home, no one did. His mom didn't give a shit and all his stepfather worried about was how he was going to hide the bruises to keep people from finding out what went on behind closed doors. "Jesus…I'm fine, alright? It's nice to know you care but I'm fine. I'm not gonna go crazy and try to kill myself."

"What happened in America? With your mom?"

Eddie's heart immediately begins to pound. He feels cold all of a sudden, the cool feeling washing over his body in waves. He pulls away from Jerome and shrinks into himself, staring down at his lap and trying to calm his churning stomach and racing mind. He can't do this. Not now.

"Hey, don't panic on me." Jerome pulls him back in and rubs his back firmly. "Take some deep breaths. You're okay."

"Sorry," Eddie mumbles, after he's calmed down enough to speak. "I just…I'm not ready to talk about that. Not now. Maybe soon, but I can't right now."

* * *

Jerome falls asleep at almost midnight, and Eddie's still awake.

The only light in the room is from his laptop, and even that's dim as hell because the bright light was hurting his eyes. He's so tired, so exhausted from the day's events, but he's forcing himself to stay awake. He's forcing himself not to succumb to his body's need for sleep because his nightmares have been awful recently and he's scared.

He dreams of his stepfather raping him, of the brutal trauma that it caused, and it disgusts him. He's so disgusted in his body and what he's turned into. He's turned to cutting so much more recently as an attack on his skin, an attack on his weakass body that wasn't able to prevent multiple counts of forced entry. It's disgraceful and so is he and every time he thinks about it he feels sick.

He still doesn't understand how someone could do that to their own stepson. It'd be worse if they were biologically related, but this on its own is still so awful. The worst part is his mom didn't even care. He remembers telling her what happened and being greeted with blind rage, making him out to be the bad person, victimizing his stepfather…it was bad.

Nausea swells in his stomach and he brings a hand to cover his mouth shakily. Slamming the lid of his laptop shut, he untangles his blanket from his legs and tumbles out of bed. He runs for the bathroom just in time to vomit violently into the toilet. He sits back on his knees when he's done, staring into the dirty water with tears running down his cheeks.

What the fuck did he do to deserve this?

He takes a few deep breaths as his stomach finally settles, and wipes his mouth tiredly. He needs to sleep. He's so tired and this day has been so taxing. It needs to be over. He brushes his teeth and then goes straight for his bed, hoping this sleep is peaceful.

 _"_ _Stupid fucking piece of shit! Your mom told me that you told her our little secret. What did I tell you?"_

 _"_ _Not to tell anyone," Eddie coughs, as his stepfather slaps him once more. "Please, I'm sorry! I forgot!"_

 _"_ _Forgot?" David sneers. "You didn't forget. You did what you always do, you little bitch." He begins unzipping his pants, and Eddie stares at him. There's no use fighting it. He's found that just letting it happen makes the torture end quicker. His stepfather is always more merciless when he's angry._

 _He reaches forward, unzipping Eddie's pants and tugging them off. Eddie squirms uncomfortably and tries to scoot away, tries to scream, tries anything that will keep this from happening, but nothing works._

 _"_ _Giving up that easily?" David smirks, chuckling. "You've gotten weak. You used to be so good at this. Don't let your stupid fucking feelings get in the way."_

 _Tears are flowing freely down his face and he's shaking his head vigorously, holding his hands up in surrender. "Please, please don't. I'll be good, I promise. Please, it hurts, I can't do this. I'll do anything else, anything you want, just not this."_

 _"_ _Stop fucking crying! Boys don't cry, you useless piece of shit!" David growls. "Stupid fucking pansy. Stop crying!"_

 _He enters him forcefully, and by then, Eddie's had enough. He screams and his resolve crumbles as more tears flood his cheeks. He's entering a world of unbearable agony and he can't do it. Everything hurts, but he somehow feels numb. He's at that point where he wants to cry but has no tears left. His head hurts and he doesn't want to feel it anymore. He doesn't want to feel anything anymore._

* * *

Jerome is terrified.

He's standing next to Eddie's bedside, watching as Eddie tosses and turns, mumbling incoherent things and screaming in his sleep. He's having a nightmare, a pretty bad one at that, and Jerome has no idea what to do.

He reaches forward and puts a hand on Eddie's shoulder, but immediately retracts it when he flinches violently and curls into himself. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to help him. Part of him is seriously considering texting Fabian and asking for help, but it's 4 am and therefore 11 pm in America, so Fabian's probably already asleep.

"Fuck," he whispers, grabbing at his hair. "What the hell do I do now?"

"Please don't, please stop, I'm sorry!" Eddie cries. Jerome whips around and his heart sinks when he sees Eddie continue to writhe. The only difference is that what he's saying now is coherent and audible, and it breaks Jerome's heart.

"I'll be good, please, I don't want it, no, stop!"

He can't keep watching this.

He turns and slips out of the room, into the dark hallway. The sun's not even out yet. He's groggy and disoriented and unsure if his idea will even work, but it's worth a shot. He climbs the stairs quickly, and makes his way over to Patricia, Mara, and Joy's room. Obviously Patricia's the only one there right now, so the only person he'll disturb is the only person he needs awake.

He knocks on the door loudly, hoping he doesn't wake Victor as well. That's not a battle he wants to fight right now.

It takes a good five minutes before Patricia opens the door, glaring at him. "What the actual fuck is your problem? It's 4:10 in the morning!"

"I need your help," he whispers. "It's Eddie."

She looks more alert after he tells her that, following him downstairs and into Fabian and Eddie's room without a word.

"Is he having a nightmare or something? Jesus christ." Eddie's still tossing and turning, limbs flailing. There are tears streaming down his cheeks and he's screaming. It breaks Jerome's heart.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I'll be good I promise just please don't!"

Patricia grabs Jerome's arm, using it to steady herself. She stares at Eddie, dumbfounded. This is terrifying. "Did he just…"

"Do something!" Jerome begs. "I don't know what to do! I don't know how to help him!"

"Eddie, Eddie come on." Patricia sits on the edge of the bed and grabs his shoulder. Eddie flinches under her touch but stills slightly. "That's it. You're doing good. I need you to wake up for me. You're okay. Everything's okay, I promise. Just try and open your eyes, okay? I'm right here. I'm here to help you."

* * *

Patricia continues shaking Eddie's shoulder, trying to blink back the tears in her eyes. She has no idea when she started caring about Eddie this much, but if she's getting this emotional over his suffering then she clearly cares about him a lot. The threat of tears only becomes worse as he kicks and screams and mutters things about promising to be a good boy. Her previous suspicions about abuse are basically confirmed. Someone hurt him, someone hurt him really badly, and he's still dealing with it. The wounds are still raw. And it is so heartbreaking.

It takes close to ten minutes to get through to him, to startle him out of this sleepy hell, and she is so glad it's finally over. He's not in pain anymore. She's so grateful for that.

Eddie's body jerks one final time, and then his eyes flutter open. He looks around wildly, tears continuing to stream down his cheeks.

"Hey, you okay?" Patricia pulls her hands away and just looks at him. He really scared them, and from the looks of it, he looks pretty terrified as well. Her heart breaks for him. All she wants to do is bring him into the tightest hug she can and promise him he'll be alright, but she knows she can't do that. She knows it's too soon, that he's too fragile. The last thing she wants to do is hurt him even more.

"I…" Eddie starts to say, but trails off, shaking his head. "Sorry…"

"You have _nothing_ to be sorry for," she says firmly. "Can I…can I hug you?"

Eddie looks at her warily for a few seconds before he nods. She smiles, leaning in and pulls him into her arms, squeezing tightly. She wishes a hug were enough to fix him. She wishes her touch could heal his fresh wounds. She wishes love and affection was enough; although she knows they're not. She knows that he's been hurt too much for that, that everything is still raw and he's still dealing with the fresh trauma. He can't even begin to accept what happened if nightmares keep plaguing him like this. It's hard to move on when the past is determined to ruin the future, sneaking up with surprise attacks when they're definitely not wanted.

"Move, gimme a turn." Jerome shoves her away from Eddie, and she brings her arms up to cross them over her chest. She watches Jerome bring Eddie into a careful hug, his lips moving rapidly close to Eddie's ear. She isn't close enough to hear what he's saying, but she catches a couple words like 'scared' and 'night'.

"You've been through this before, haven't you?" Jerome pulls away from Eddie to sit down next to him, and they both look at Patricia. She shrugs. "You look freaked, but it doesn't seem shocking. You'd be a lot more shocked if this was your first rodeo. How long has it been happening?"

"Years," Eddie mutters. "I don't remember what a good night's sleep is anymore."

"Let's not do this now," Jerome says. Patricia takes another glance at Eddie and sees immediately his reasoning for trying to divert the conversation. Eddie is still shaking, avoiding their eyes. He has his arms draped across his abdomen and his head down, very clearly uncomfortable. Talking about this would only make it worse. "It's almost 4:30, let's all just try and go back to sleep. We can talk when the sun's up."

Eddie snorts. "Hilarious. Like I'm going to sleep after this."

"You need to sleep. You look like hell, mate."

"Then hit me in the head with something hard, because that's the only way it'll happen."

* * *

 **I'm so far ahead and there are so many twists coming up, so I had to post this. I'm excited for you all to read the rest. There's a lot you'll love and a lot you won't. ;) Next chapter, the aftermath of this, Amber and Alfie's conversation with Amber's father, and Eddie's ready to open up. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Trigger warnings - depression, suicide, self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, and racism.**

* * *

He's never been more uncomfortable in his life.

That's a pretty big over-exaggeration, considering the discomfort waking up after being raped multiple times, but this is enough to join those.

Patricia and Jerome haven't stopped looking at him like he's crazy since his nightmare. He's so done with it. It was a fucking nightmare. They happen. They're nothing new to him. He has them every fucking night. The routine he's settled into is having Fabian wake him up and just lie with him for a few minutes, until he feels safe enough to go back to sleep.

He's clinging onto Fabian like a limpet. He didn't realize how much he relies on him until Fabian left. He'll be back in two weeks. He's not gone forever. But Eddie has to keep reminding himself that Fabian didn't leave because he was done; he went on vacation with his girlfriend. Not everyone has shitty intentions. It's just like Nina said. Not everyone is going to fuck him over. He needs to trust people.

The problem now is that Fabian's gone for the next fourteen days and he has to deal with his nightmares alone. He has to deal with everything alone. He doesn't have Fabian to rely on and cling to like he usually does. Realizing this only makes him feel worse, because he used to be at a point where he didn't need to rely on anyone but himself. He dealt with everything on his own back in America, and it all worked out.

This just exemplifies his weakness. It's like broadcasting it onto a billboard. He came to England, got some friends, got attached, and now he's left a mess when one of them leaves. It's fucking stupid and he's fucking weak. He doesn't know how to handle himself when Fabian's not around because he's let himself fall into this goddamn paradigm and it's been ripped away from him.

But now he's stuck with Patricia and Jerome walking on eggshells around him and it makes him so frustrated that he wants to scream. He's not going to crack if they make a joke. He's not going to shatter if they treat him like they always have. He's not broken and their treatment of him is their way of insisting that he is and that angers him more than anything.

They won't leave him alone and that's the worst part. They're surrounding him, suffocating him, and he can't breathe. He can't breathe inside the walls they've inadvertently trapped him in. He needs to cut and he can't. He needs to feel the pain, he needs to rip into his skin and calm himself down, he needs to do _something_ , because he's anything but calm right now.

He just wants to go into the bathroom and cut, but they won't let him. He knows Patricia knows about his self-harm, and it's too obvious for Jerome not to suspect it, but it's infuriating. She's done it before. She should understand his need to hurt himself. He needs it. He deserves it. There's nothing else that'll make him feel better the way cutting will. He relies on it. If he can't have Fabian, he needs his blade.

He's stupid and pathetic and he knows it. He can't go one goddamn night without having a nightmare, and even so, he's too much of a baby to handle things on his own. He relies too much on people and when he's left to his own devices bad things happen. He doesn't know when he got so pliant and comfortable, but it needs to stop. He needs to stop deluding himself into thinking that people will always be there. They may have good intentions, but at some point he needs to start doing things for himself. He won't always have his friends like a goddamn safety net.

Nothing is a guarantee.

* * *

Alfie clenches onto Amber's hand as they look up at the massive structure in front of them.

The Millington mansion is huge. It looks like something straight out of a movie. There's so much space. It's excessive, considering only Amber and her father live there, but he has the money to afford it, so it's more of a question of why not than anything.

"Miss Millington." A man in a full suit, probably the butler, steps forward to greet them. "Your father is waiting for you. He's been anxiously anticipating your arrival."

Alfie glances at Amber and notes her plastered on smile. She looks as uncomfortable as he feels, and that somehow consoles him. He's not the only one feeling nervous and anxious and scared about this. Amber's not her father. All the perks of being rich do not placate her. Deep down, she's just a girl that wants her father's approval and love. It breaks Alfie's heart to even think about it. How can you have such an amazing daughter and not realize it? Does Mr. Millington have any idea what he's missing?

"Thanks Marcus," Amber says softly. "This is my boyfriend, Alfie." She lifts their joined hands slightly and tightens her smile.

"Ah yes, Mr. Millington mentioned you'd be joining us. It's nice to meet you." Marcus' smile looks friendly. His eyes are shining. He seems to genuinely enjoy his job, although Alfie surmises that it can't be easy working for someone like Mr. Millington.

"Nice to meet you too," Alfie forces out, hoping his nervousness isn't given away by how shaky his voice sounds. He's so scared. He's trying to be strong for Amber, but he can't help being absolutely fucking terrified. This is probably the most nerve-wracking thing he's ever had to do.

"Now then," Marcus says. "Follow me. We wouldn't want to keep Mr. Millington waiting."

Alfie scoffs as Marcus leads them into the house. The interior is just as brilliant as the exterior. The decoration is exquisite and pristine. Everything looks so expensive. Alfie almost feels wrong being in this house. It's not that he doesn't know high-class, because he does. His house is pretty up there. But it's nothing compared to the magnitude of this mansion.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Amber whispers, squeezing his hand. "I know it's a lot to handle. My father is too. And I'm sorry in advance for whatever he says to you. I'm sorry for making you go through this."

"You didn't make me do anything," Alfie replies. "None of this is your fault. And don't you dare apologize for him. He's grown enough for him to own up to his own mistakes."

Eventually, they find themselves in an office. Mr. Millington is sitting at a desk and scribbling something down on a pad of paper. He doesn't look up at their arrival. "Marcus?"

"Sir, your daughter and her boyfriend."

Mr. Millington looks up immediately, and Alfie tries not to squirm under his gaze. He feels so uncomfortable, like he's being scrutinized under a microscope. He made sure to look as nice as possible. He's wearing a shirt and tie, dress pants, and his best shoes. He's trying so hard to look like the boyfriend Amber deserves.

"Amber, straighten your dress. You know how I feel about wrinkled clothing." Alfie's heart goes back to pounding furiously when he hears that. Forget pleasantries, forget hellos, forget everything. Mr. Millington is all business and it's evident by the hard tone of his voice.

Alfie is terrified.

He turns his gaze over to Amber, not bearing to look at Mr. Millington any longer. His gaze is burning into him and Alfie feels like he's going to pass out. He doesn't understand why this has to be such a big deal. It's not worth the anxiety. It's not worth the frustration. And it's definitely not worth the pain.

"Sorry daddy," Amber replies. She curls her fingers around Alfie's palm, squeezing, and Alfie smiles. The action makes him feel a little better. It's things like that, little touches and subtle gestures of comfort that calm him down and remind him of what's really important. "This is Alfie, my boyfriend."

Alfie holds out his free hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

Mr. Millington ignores it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alfie? Is that short for something?"

Alfie nods. "Alfred, sir. My parents started calling me Alfie when I was younger and it kinda stuck."

He harrumphs and Alfie winces. He's really not doing too well at this. He's barely said two sentences and the guy already hates him. He knew Mr. Millington already didn't like him, but he doesn't know how to fix it and he definitely doesn't know where it's coming from.

"You, um, you have a really nice house, sir. It's beautiful." He's trying to make small talk and ease some of the tension in the room but he knows it isn't working. He knows he's being looked at like he's the village idiot and he can feel himself cracking under that pressure. He feels sick and he just wants to curl up in bed and cry.

"Oh, I'm glad you think so. Of course, my Amber is used to things like this because she's grown up with them. You, on the other hand, you and your parents would never be able to have something like this. So soak it all in, because this is probably your first and only gander."

Jerome was right. This isn't worth it. He loves Amber, but he isn't sure he can handle this. It's hard to put on a persona and act like nothing's wrong when he knows that Mr. Millington hates him for the color of his skin. He doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right.

He doesn't know if he can do this anymore.

* * *

"M'going for a walk, I'll be back soon." Eddie watches as Jerome pulls on his coat and slips his feet into his shoes.

"Do you want me to come with?"

"No, that's okay." Jerome shoots him a shy smile. "I'm going to call my dad. He's allowed one phone call a day, and he sent me another letter asking if I'd consider calling today."

"Jesus," Eddie mutters. "You sure you'll be okay? I don't mind coming. I won't say anything. Just moral support."

"Thanks, but I need to do this on my own," Jerome replies. "I'm glad Mara's not here for this. I need to learn how to face him on my own. She was there the first time, and I needed it, but now the ice is broken and we have to figure out what we're going to do. I can do it."

"Proud of you, dude." Eddie slides off the couch and over to Jerome. He brings him into a hug and squeezes tightly. "Wish I had your courage."

"You should try and talk to your dad," Jerome urges. "Listen to him. I know you're still really pissed about everything, and you've got every right to be, but give him a chance. Let him tell you his side of the story."

"Really?" Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes. "You're the last person I thought I'd be hearing that from."

"I thought my dad got himself arrested because he didn't want to deal with me," Jerome says. "But it turns out that he was framed and taking someone else's sentence. He didn't want to leave me. He didn't have a choice. That's not to say he didn't make some mistakes, but I know he didn't leave because I wasn't good enough. That gave me hell for so long and it's finally over." He rests a hand on Eddie's shoulder and smiles at him. "Talk to your dad. Let him explain himself. You might be surprised."

* * *

"You look like shit."

"I feel worse." Eddie slumps facedown onto Joy's bed with his legs dangling off the edge. "The hell are you doing?"

"Working on something," Patricia mutters, reaching for her phone to pause her music. She glances back at Eddie and smiles. "Shouldn't you be writing? After all, you said that was all you'd do for the break."

"Started a song," Eddie mumbles, his voice muffled by the mattress. "But I still feel awful and I have no inspiration so I scrapped it. It was shitty anyway."

"Sucks," Patricia replies. "But your nightmare was pretty bad. Don't worry about it too much."

"I have fuckin' PTSD, Yacker. My nightmares are always bad." Eddie pulls himself into a sitting position and glares at her. "They're bad enough without you and Jerome treating me like I'm made of glass!"

"We're just worried," Patricia sighs. She knows he's frustrated. She understands why. She's felt the same way. Joy bubble wrapped her the way she and Jerome are bubble-wrapping Eddie and she knows it's frustrating. She knows he's angry with himself for letting other people see him in such a vulnerable state. It's obvious. "I know we're being intolerable right now. I've been in your place. But Eddie, you gotta understand…you were screaming and kicking and begging whoever it was not to hurt you, promising you'd be good. It was terrifying."

"My stepfather," Eddie says. It takes him a good minute to get the words out, and when he says them, his voice is different. Monotone, void of emotion. He doesn't sound at all like he usually does. She can typically tell what he's feeling by the tone of his voice, and honestly, she hopes she's wrong, because right now she suspects that he feels absolutely nothing.

And that's scarier than any feeling of sadness.

* * *

 **Thoughts? This is where things start to get real, guys. Starting next chapter, everything spirals downward. Just one thing - I kinda have a goal of getting 200 reviews by the time I hit 30 chapters. Do you guys think we could try for that? If we don't hit it, that's okay, but I'd love to get there.**

 **Next chapter, Eddie finally talks to Patricia and tells her some...pretty disturbing things...and the chapter ends with a twist I've been hinting about for a while now. ;) The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter. It's already done, as are the following three, almost four chapters.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Trigger warnings - self-harm, suicide, rape, abuse, depression, and anxiety.**

* * *

Patricia knows what's coming is big.

Eddie looks like he's about to pass out, and that's enough for her to know that what's coming is so much bigger than she's ever imagined. His reaction to all of this is so prominent, so unrehearsed, and that's how she knows that he's never told this story before. If he'd gone through it before it wouldn't have the effects on him that it does.

She closes her sketchbook and pulls out her remaining earbud, turning her full attention to Eddie. He's sitting cross-legged on Joy's bed, not looking at her, not moving. She wouldn't be surprised if he stopped breathing temporarily and she didn't notice. It's dead silent, sticky and uncomfortable, and while she doesn't like it, she knows Eddie's trying to gather up all the strength and courage he has to tell her this, so she waits.

She waits for almost five minutes before Eddie speaks again, and this time his words are so quiet that she has to strain to hear him. Any softer and she'd find herself perched next to him, trying to get as close to him as possible if only to hear him. Whatever's coming can't be good. She doesn't know what to think. He's hurting and she hates seeing him this way but he needs to stop holding everything in. He's so close to rock bottom and the ground below his feet will only give way faster if he traps anything else inside.

"I'm here because the neighbors called CPS on my mom and stepdad," Eddie mutters. "They got suspicious when they kept seeing me limping out of the house or sporting a new black eye. So CPS came and launched a full investigation arrested both my mom and stepdad for abuse, child neglect, and…" He trails off, swallowing hard.

His pause gives Patricia the chance to digest everything, and jesus fucking christ, she couldn't feel shittier.

Thinking back to the way she treated him the first few months of school…the things she _said_. She made it a point to tell him he wasn't wanted or needed and that he was useless and worthless…holy fucking _shit_. No wonder her words had that much of an affect on him. No wonder Fabian and the rest of the house were so pissed at her.

"Eddie, I…I'm so sorry…I didn't know…" she says, trying to blink against the tears in her eyes. She doesn't remember the last time she's felt this shitty about herself. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this.

And it's all her fault.

* * *

He never imagined breathing would be this hard.

While Patricia's staring off into space, trying to process what he said, he's trying to remember how to breathe. He's trying to force air in and out of his lungs because he knows what he's about to do but he doesn't know if he can do it.

He's wanted to tell Patricia for a long time. He's wanted to tell her specifically because she's the only person who won't treat him like he's made of glass. He doesn't want to be treated differently. He doesn't want people to look at him like they're looking at his past. That's why he hasn't told Fabian. He knows that Fabian would look at him with those sad, pitiful eyes, and Eddie knows he can't handle that.

He wants to move on but it's so hard. They're gone but they're everywhere. And the memories are so consuming. When he's not dreaming of a particularly shitty instance, snippets of conversation and things taken out of his context bring him right back to that tiny apartment where his life proceeded to fall further and further apart.

He brings his left hand over to his right wrist and presses the pad of his left thumb down against his sweatshirt sleeve. He digs his finger in, effectively irritating the cuts and giving him the chance to inhale. He needs the pain. He can't go on without it. He's really messed up to have even gotten to that point, but he can't help it.

Depression has a habit of bringing feelings of numbness. What's worse that the constant sadness is just feeling nothing. Digging his fingers into his fresh cuts and aggravating them causes him pain, but it's _something_. He feels _something_. He's not completely closed off from the world. It reminds him that he can still feel, that his emotions aren't completely dead. That's something he desperately needs, because living in a world where nothing evokes emotion and everything has him feeling nothing is terrifying. He's so tired of not feeling.

"I had no idea," Patricia repeats, lifting her head to look straight at him. Her eyes are starting to become red and he can see tears in them. It confuses him. Why is she crying? This is his past, his mess, his shit to deal with. Why should she feel bad about it? It's not like any of it is her fault. She didn't make things any better but she didn't cause any of it either. "This makes what I did to you so much worse…"

"See why I was so pissed?" Eddie mutters. "But you're right, you didn't know. That's not your fault. Doesn't make what you did right, though."

"It doesn't," Patricia agrees quickly. "I'm still _so_ sorry about all of that. You have no idea how much I wish I could take it back. You didn't deserve it."

Eddie chuckles although there's nothing funny about this. "If I only got what I deserved then I never would've been raped." He notes the immediate shock and fear that Patricia wears when he says it and plows on. "Because I definitely didn't deserve that, did I? I mean, come on. How fucking sick is it? The guy marries my mom and thinks it's okay to shove his dick into my ass when he's pissed at me."

His attempt at humor is the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. He knows that if he doesn't try and be sarcastic about it, he'll choke and start crying and work himself into a panic attack. It's probably disturbing; serious matters like this being joked about usually are, but Patricia's just going to have to deal with it because this sardonic humor is how he copes.

"He…he _raped_ you…?"

"Yeah, more times than I can count, considering he's in jail for sexual assault of a minor," Eddie replies. "That's what my nightmare was about. That's what they're usually about. It starts with me doing something to piss him off and ends in me passing out because it hurts too much."

"Eddie, I…" She trails off and shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything," he mutters. "It's pathetic and so am I. I'm just tired of holding it all in. It's a lot."

"Thanks for telling me," Patricia sniffs, wiping at her eyes. "Can I…I need to give you a hug after hearing that…"

He shrugs, opening his arms. "If you're not too disgusted by my presence, sure."

She freezes where she is, slowly lifting her head to stare at him. "What?"

"Boys don't get raped."

"Where the _fuck_ did you hear that?"

"Does it matter?" Eddie chuckles dryly. "It's humiliating to talk about. Being too weak to stop him, _letting_ him do that to me… I'm fucking pathetic, Yacker. And you all wonder why I wanna die so bad."

"Let's get one thing clear here," Patricia says firmly. Her voice is low and she's looking him straight in the eye. "The media is wrong. Society is wrong. Boys _can_ get raped. Just like girls can. And that's what happened to you. You were raped. It's not your fault. It can't possibly be. It's your stepfather who decided that he'd force himself on a sixteen year old for his own, I don't know, pleasure? That sounds really awful, but then again, rape is awful and he did that." She reaches forward and puts a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "You didn't _let_ him do anything to you. I obviously wasn't there but from what I know about you, you fought him, you tried to get away, you did what you could, and even if you hadn't, you still wouldn't have just _let_ it happen. There was nothing you could do. It's not your fault."

He doesn't know what to say. His chest is tight and the tears are back and he's so tired. All he wants to do is sleep, sleep and never wake up. Everything is too much and he feels so drained from saying even that little. All she knows is that his mom and stepdad were abusive and he's been raped. She doesn't even know the full story, he couldn't even pull himself together enough to give her that. Jesus fucking christ, he really is pathetic.

"That's enough for today." Patricia speaks again, seeming to understand his plight. He lets himself relax, slumping back against his pillows. A pair of arms wind around him and Patricia presses her body against his, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "I am so proud of you, okay? Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy. I know you feel like shit. So I'll leave you alone for a bit, okay? Get some rest. Trudy's already making dinner, it'll be ready in a half hour. But if you're not up to it, text me and I'll bring you a plate. And I'll come back tonight to make sure you're okay. Just breathe. Everything's gonna be fine."

* * *

He thought he could do this.

He thought he could handle telling someone more than the superficial details. He thought he was ready to take that step. He thought he'd be able to tell someone he trusted details about his personal life without feeling naked and exposed and vulnerable. He thought he'd be able to handle it without feeling like he's just placed a target on his back.

That's so far from the truth. He's never felt worse. He hates himself for what he's done. He can't breathe under the weight of his confession, like he's being flattened to the ground by its sheer size and magnitude. The fact that Patricia _knows_ something so personal about him makes him nauseous. He's choking on the realization, unable to get past the fact that she fucking knows about the thing that's been eating away at him ever since he got here.

He shoves up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and slashes into his arm. The cut is angry, jagged and painful. He doesn't care. He welcomes the pain, inhales and exhales as more waves flood his body and allow him to get a handle on his breathing. He needs to calm down. His mind needs to stop racing and his heart needs to stop pounding because he can't get a coherent thought in.

All he wants is destruction. He wants to destroy himself. He wants to rip his skin off and bash his head into the wall. He wants to grab handfuls of his hair and rip it out. He wants to destroy something. And all he has is himself.

So he cuts again, and then again. He cuts until he can't see his arm under all the blood. It's coming fast, soaking into his bedsheets, and this is starting to blur dangerously into the same situation he was in four months ago when he tried to kill himself. It didn't work that time.

It needs to work this time. He reaches for his duffel bag blindly. He's dizzy and his vision is starting to get blurry. He can't focus. He feels around for a good couple minutes before his hand closes around a bottle of pills. He draws the bottle out and tries to read the name.

The hospital gave him a bottle of anti-depressants before he left. They diagnosed him with major depression and gave him happy pills to "fix" it. He didn't bother taking them. He still doesn't want to. He shouldn't need pills. They shouldn't be the cure. No normal person needs medication to be happy. Why should he be any different?

He never thought he'd actually take them, but as he clumsily unscrews the cap and shakes a few out into his palm, the thought is looking more and more appealing. Technically, he's doing what he's supposed to. He's taking them to be happy. Suicide will make him happy. Death will make them happy. He's going to take them, all at once, and he'll finally be happy. The pills may not have done the job they were intended to do, but they're still going to make him happy.

He's starting to feel fuzzy. His vision is starting to go dark. This needs to happen now. He can't pass out from blood loss. He'll be saved. He can't be saved. Not again. This needs to work this time. He's not going through this again. It's going to work.

He reaches for the water bottle on his nightstand and swallows handful after handful. There are maybe ten pills in each mouthful. One by one, more pills go down, until the bottle is empty and he's starting to really lose it.

He has to smile though; he's finally going to be happy.

* * *

 **I'm not even going to bother defending myself, you all probably hate me. Just know that this was planned from the beginning, and it _had_ to happen for a lot of the events following to happen. Also, Eddie was really sardonic in this chapter, not because he was trying to joke about rape and abuse, but because that is his way of coping with them. I thought I'd make that clear to avoid any misunderstandings. **

**Next chapter, Patricia's thoughts about what Eddie just told her, a particularly awkward Amfie family dinner ft. Mr. Millington, and some Christmasy Fabina. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Couple things. The Amfie scene happens around the same time as Eddie opening up to Patricia. New Jersey is five hours ahead of England, so it'd be close to midnight for Nina and Fabian, which is around dinnertime for everyone in England. Just keep that in mind while reading. Trigger warnings - depression, suicide, self-harm, and racism.**

* * *

Giving Eddie some space was equally for her benefit as it was his.

She needs time to wrap her head around all this. She needs time to process, time to breathe, time to accept the fact that Eddie's been hiding such a dark and painful secret for so long. She can't imagine what that was like for him. She can't imagine any of it. She's never been through it so she'd never know, and it makes her sick to even think about.

His stepfather. His own fucking stepfather _destroyed_ him, and it makes her nauseous to think about. Eddie may be okay physically, but the mental toll that's taken on him is immense. She understands his aloof, jerky movements at points. He's gotten a lot better about touch compared to when he first got here, but he's still a little jumpy and now she understands why.

Her heart hurts so badly for him. She wants to keep him safe. She wants to hug him and never let go, protect him from all the shitty things in the world because he's been exposed to far too many of them. She has the overwhelming urge to attach herself to him and run her hands through his hair while he sleeps and it's so confusing. Everything about this is confusing. It's the worst time to be thinking about it considering what she's just heard, but hearing him talk about his past has only heightened her desire to be close to him.

She doesn't know what love is. She doesn't know how it's supposed to feel. Adam wasn't a proper representation of any of it. She was barely thirteen when she fell for him, and even still, he gave her some shitty compliments and told her he liked her and that was enough. It wasn't love. It was pathetic. What she feels for Eddie now surpasses everything she felt for Adam even after two years of being together.

She doesn't think it's love yet. It can't possibly be. But ever since she came to her senses a couple months ago, she's looked at Eddie differently. She's picked up on the little things, on his quirks and mannerisms, and seeing them makes her feel weird. He's really…adorable? His little sarcastic comments and overall cynical nature are what draw her to him and she's starting to fall in love with his personality.

It's way too soon and she'd never act on these feelings, not until she's sure Eddie feels the same way. He's been through so much and she doesn't want to put any added pressure on him. It's the wrong time and she knows it. She needs to wait until he's in a better place mentally for her to do anything, but it's starting to become harder and harder. The couple hugs she's given him have been hard to let go of. She wants more. She just doesn't know if Eddie's ready for that.

"Patricia love, could you get Eddie for dinner please?" Trudy asks from the kitchen, pulling her out of her thoughts. "It won't taste good if you all don't eat it while it's hot."

"Dinner? Perfect timing." Jerome slams the front door behind him and begins pulling off his scarf and coat. "I'm ready Trudy, bring it on."

Trudy chuckles. "Of course you are, dearie. Between you and Eddie I feel like I'm cooking for an army."

Patricia slides off the couch and makes her way down the hall, stopping in front of Eddie and Fabian's closed room door. She raps her knuckles against it lightly. "Eddie? It's dinnertime. I can have Trudy bring you a plate if you don't feel up to it."

There's no answer. She waits for almost two minutes with silence, and shakes her head. Maybe he's asleep. But something's telling her it's far more than that. Fear is creeping into the pit of her stomach. She feels it in her gut, and her gut instinct has never been wrong.

Something is wrong. She's sure of it.

She twists the doorknob and the door swings open.

Her gut instinct was right.

Eddie's lying slumped over on his bed, in a pool of his own blood. He's foaming at the mouth. There's an empty pill bottle next to him.

She screams.

* * *

He's never been more self-conscious in his life.

They're having dinner together, Amber, her father, and him, and it is the most awkward experience of his entire life. He hates it. He hates feeling this uneasy, having to think about every move he makes. He knows Mr. Millington is staring him down, scrutinizing meticulously, and he can't handle it for much longer. All he's doing is cutting chicken, and he feels like he has to be overly cautious of how he eats as not to provoke some backhanded remark from Amber's father. It's extremely frustrating.

He shouldn't have to do this. This shouldn't cause him this much stress. Meeting the parents is usually a stressful event, but never to this level. He's never heard of it being this hard. He's been nauseous and his head's been spinning since they got here. He wants to cry. The feeling is there, the feeling of holding back tears, that ache in his head that just won't go away.

"So, Alfred, what does your father do?"

At the mention of his name, Alfie's heart is starting to pound. He's so nervous and he doesn't understand why. It's a simple question with a simple answer. He's just terrified of getting hit with another racist comment. He should be able to handle this, but it's so hard. It's so hard not to revert back into the suicidal mindset, not to revert back into thinking that he should just end his life because no matter what he does, Amber's father will never like or approve of him. It's so fucking hard and he is so fucking done with it.

"He, um, he's a lawyer," Alfie stutters. He's trying so hard but it's not enough. The disapproving expression on Mr. Millington's face that's been there since he first met him speaks volumes. He will never be worthy of Amber and the realization hurts so much.

"Please don't lie to me," Mr. Millington mutters. "I don't care if you're ashamed of what your father does, it is much more disgraceful to lie about it."

"Daddy…" Amber protests. "His dad _is_ a lawyer."

"Amber, keep quiet. I asked Alfred, not you. And how do you know he was telling you the truth when he told you that? Knowing our family and the great fortune we've amassed, it's very possible that he made up that lie to make it seem like his family isn't as low class as I'm sure they are."

"My father's name is George Lewis," Alfie says thinly. "He's represented thousands of people and won an overwhelming majority of his cases. I'm sure you've heard of him; he's quite popular with rich businessmen like yourself."

He doesn't know where that newfound courage came from. Maybe it was his anger at Mr. Millington talking down his dad, or maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through his veins, but he's somehow feeling confident. He's just so angry that Mr. Millington had the audacity to think he was lying about his dad's job. Why would he even want to lie about that? It's ridiculous and makes him feel even worse about himself because he knows there are people out there just like Mr. Millington who assume all black people have shitty jobs and it's infuriating.

Mr. Millington looks a bit taken aback, and it gives Alfie some satisfaction. His outburst definitely won't be taken too kindly, but at least he's showed Mr. Millington that he has a spine and isn't going to let stupid fucking racist comments slide.

"Oh, of course, I do know your father," Mr. Millington replies. "He's…decent…considering his circumstances."

It's things like that. Snide racist comments like those. His circumstances? Why couldn't he have just come right out and said 'he's decent but he'd be better if he wasn't white?'. That's what he wanted to say. It has Alfie's blood boiling. He's shaking, but not because of nerves. He's shaking with rage. He desperately wants to tell Mr. Millington off, but he knows he can't. One glance to Amber's pleading gaze and mouthed 'I'm sorry' and he's sure he can't.

"And your mother? Does she work?"

Alfie nods. "She does. At Oxford University."

"I'm sure she does a great job cleaning up after everyone."

Alfie freezes. "What?"

"She's a janitor, isn't she?"

"No." He's doing everything possible not to scream at Mr. Millington. "My mom teaches Biochem and is the head of the department. She has three master's degrees. She's the most brilliant person I know." He swallows hard, pushing back his chair. "I'm sorry, I've tried to stay calm for this, but you're crossing so many lines. I can't deal with it anymore." He glances at Amber and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, love. This is too much."

He turns on his heel and storms out of the room, trying to will himself back to calm.

* * *

"I love you."

Fabian presses a kiss to Nina's cheek and smiles as her gran brings out a platter of cookies to set on the coffee table in front of them. This day has been one of the best of his entire life. So simple, yet absolutely perfect.

Nina's gran waited for them to put up and decorate the Christmas tree, so a majority of the day was spent doing that, blasting carols while stringing garland and glass balls on the six foot tall evergreen in the corner of the room. They lit it up so beautifully that it's able to function as the only source of light in the room.

Miracle on 34th Street is playing lowly on the TV, and now with the cookies and the fire going, this is the most perfect, picturesque holiday he's ever had. Christmas isn't for another two days, and he can't wait. It's going to be so beautiful, a Christmas he'll remember forever.

"Go on, dig in." Nina's gran smiles at them, and Fabian reaches out to take a cookie. He bites into it and closes his eyes, inhaling the sweet aroma and appreciating the decadent flavor. It's one of the best cookies he's ever had.

"This is amazing," he mumbles, swallowing. "What'd you put in them?"

"Secret family recipe." She winks at him. "Maybe when you two get married I'll share it with you."

Fabian freezes, feeling his face start to heat up. It's not like he hasn't thought about it before, but he didn't realize it was that obvious. He also didn't expect her to be so vocal about it. From the looks of it, Nina didn't expect that either, because she's blushing just as much as Fabian is.

"Gran!" Nina protests. "Please, don't."

"I'm sorry," she chuckles. "I promised Nina I wouldn't go into this, but I just can't help it. You are such a wonderful young man, Fabian, and I am so glad she's found someone like you. I was worried for a while, but now I see that I had no reason to be. You two remind me of me and my husband when we were teenagers, so young and in love."

Fabian goes to answer but is interrupted by his phone ringing loudly. He mutters a hurried apology and pulls it out of his pocket. He stares at the caller ID in confusion. Why would Patricia be calling him this late? It's almost midnight in England.

He touches accept and holds the phone up to his ear, even confused when he doesn't hear anything. Maybe Patricia butt dialed him by accident. "Patricia? Is everything okay? Why're you calling so late?"

A choked sob is his answer, and he swears his heart skips a beat. "Patricia? What the hell is going on?"

"It's Eddie." Her voice is hoarse, shaky and full of tears. "He tried to kill himself. You need to come back. Now."

* * *

 **Thoughts? You _will_ find out Eddie's fate in the next chapter, I promise. I know you guys are anxious to find out, and you will. Speaking of next chapter, aside from Eddie's fate, Patricia finds a confidant, and we finally get Mr. Sweet's POV, a first for this story. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	30. Chapter 30

**My goal was 200 reviews in 30 chapters, and we managed to reach 201 in 29. You guys are amazing. Thank you. Thank you for reading this story and supporting this story and inspiring me to continue writing it. I couldn't have done it without you.**

 **Trigger warnings - suicide, depression, self-harm, abuse, and mentions of rape.**

* * *

This doesn't feel real.

Everything that just happened is playing on repeat through his head, but none of it feels real. He still can't believe it actually happened. He doesn't _want_ to believe it actually happened. He wants this to be a horrible nightmare. He wants to wake up from this awful dream and find Eddie safely sleeping in the bed across from his.

Instead, Jerome is sitting in a crowded hospital waiting room with tears running down his cheeks, trying to comprehend how the fuck all of this happened. Patricia is sitting next to him and she has her arms crossed over her chest, staring down at the floor with glassy eyes.

He'll never forget her scream. She screamed bloody murder, and that was enough to have him, Trudy, and Victor running to see what the problem was. Seeing Eddie's limp body had him feeling sick. It still does. There was so much blood. He looked dead.

Patricia hiccups beside him, and Jerome glances at her. "He's gonna be okay."

"You don't know that," Patricia mutters. Her voice is hoarse and choked with tears. "What if he's lost too much blood? What if the pills did irreversible damage to his organs?"

This is such a change from the Patricia he saw at the beginning of term. She's gone from utterly despising Eddie's existence to a total mess because he's in the hospital. If he didn't know better, Jerome would think Patricia felt something more for Eddie than merely platonic feelings.

It's a thought he's had for a while. The way she looks at him with those longing glances and her insistence on hugging him. She's always going into his room to talk to him. Jerome's walked into the room to find them both lounging on Eddie's bed, sharing headphones while Eddie scribbles in a notebook and Patricia sketches in her sketchbook, on multiple occasions. It's kinda cute. And with everything Eddie's been through recently, Jerome sees it affecting Patricia in a way it wouldn't if she didn't have such deep feelings for him.

"Do you like Eddie?" Jerome asks. He knows what her answer is going to be, but he needs to make sure. He knows that there's no way all of this could've been feigned or a coincidence. Patricia likes Eddie and it's obvious. He's surprised that he's the only one in the house who's figured it out, because she's done a pretty shitty job of hiding it.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, Trixie," Jerome replies. "You heard me. You like him, don't you?"

"Please don't tell him," Patricia begs. Jerome sees the desperation in her eyes and it breaks his heart. Patricia looks genuinely wrecked. Her eyes are red and her lip is quivering. Her cheeks are tearstained and her makeup is running. She looks like she's been through hell and back. Her right hand keeps going to her left wrist, and Jerome knows exactly why.

He reaches over and separates both her hands, taking them in his and turning slightly to face her. "Listen to me. It's going to be okay. He's gonna be okay, I promise. You can't relapse, Trix. You're doing so well."

"I can't help it," Patricia mumbles. He tightens his grip on her wrists so she can't pull her hands away. "It's a habit. And I really want to, okay? Eddie's not here to talk to."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Jerome jokes. This is only serving to cement everything he thought about Patricia's feelings for Eddie. She's not doing anything to hide it, and while he's surprised about it, it makes him so happy. She's finally opening up and putting her feelings front and center. She's been repressing everything for much too long.

"No, Eddie just…"

"Understands you? Better than I ever could?" Jerome supplies. "Anyone with eyes can see that. I've been friends with you for years and we've come close to what you and Eddie have, but we've never really gotten it. It's okay. But right now, I'm the next best thing. So talk to me."

"I hate myself so much," Patricia confesses. "For what I did to him. He told me some things, and I just…I was so awful. I was such a bitch. And I didn't even realize it. If I hadn't caught him cutting that night, I wouldn't have even realized it. That's what disgusts me more than anything."

Jerome's not quite sure what she's talking about with catching Eddie cutting, but he doesn't want to pry right now. He can kinda gather what she means, and that's enough to go off of. "But you _did_ realize. And you apologized, and everything's okay between you two now. The past is the past, Trix. You gotta move on."

"How can I like him?" Patricia whispers. "I thought I _hated_ him. How can I like him?"

"Maybe you've liked him all along," Jerome suggests. "Maybe the hatred was a mask for your true feelings."

"Maybe," Patricia says distantly. She tilts her head back so it hits the wall, closing her eyes. Jerome reaches for one of her hands and squeezes tightly, rubbing his thumb over her palm.

He doesn't know what's going to happen. He doesn't know if Eddie's going to be okay. Most of what he said was merely for Patricia's benefit. But now, knowing how she feels about him, Jerome is praying to anyone who will listen that Eddie pulls through even more than he was before, because he doesn't know if Patricia will survive if Eddie doesn't.

* * *

She can't stop thinking about what Jerome said.

It's all starting to make sense.

When she first saw Eddie, she knew something was different. He wasn't another Fabian or Jerome to her. Something was different about him and she had no idea what it was. She equated it to him being American and therefore different, and she used insults to try and distance herself because of how much he reminded her of Adam. But now, looking back on it, the different feelings were most likely a result of attraction.

Given her relationship with Adam and her poor knowledge of what love is, she had no idea, but now it all seems to align perfectly. She felt something for Eddie from the very beginning, but it took her until now to realize those feelings and accept them. It took her this long to even figure out what those feelings were, but now that she knows, she can antagonize over whether or not Eddie feels the same way.

Why would he? After the way she treated him, he has no reason to want to get into a relationship with her. That's what's holding her back from confessing her feelings. But seeing his body on the bed and pressing her hands to his wrist to try and stop his bleeding has made the desire to be close to him even stronger. She wants to protect him. She wants to keep him safe.

If they do get into a relationship, she's pretty sure it'll be the most healthy and productive thing ever. She feels the most comfortable talking about her problems around Eddie. They'd be one of those couples that can talk about literally anything, that have no secrets, that have such a personal connection that arguments are foreign. It sounds like a dream.

She wants what the other girls have. Seeing Joy and Mara and Nina and Amber so happy for so long definitely has her wanting that for herself. She's jealous and it's petty and stupid but she can't help it. They all got such good relationships and good boyfriends and her first and only relationship ended in abuse and trauma and resulted in two suicide attempts. She wants a relationship with someone she can trust.

Her first relationship was disastrous and it still haunts her. She remembers the beatings, the yelling, the life she lived in constant fear. She still flinches when people raise their voices at her and involuntarily begins to shake. She's nervous around men she doesn't know. But most of all, the worst damage of all of it, is her belief for so long that love came with a price. Love came with sacrifice. The beatings, the verbal abuse, the overall belittling and damage of her self-esteem…all of that was a sacrifice made for love. That's what Adam taught her.

And she is so ready to unlearn it.

* * *

Eric stares at Eddie's still form, reaching up to wipe tears from his eyes.

They were able to pump his stomach and get the drugs out before they could do any type of severe damage, and give him a transfusion to replenish the blood he lost. He's been sleeping for the last hour, head tilted slightly to the right. He looks so beautiful, so peaceful. There are dark purple bags under his eyes and he looks exhausted, but his sleep is undisturbed and that's enough for Eric.

The doctors said he was suffering from bad exhaustion, and if not for the suicide attempt, he would've ended up in the hospital after passing out due to that. Eddie's not sleeping and Eric isn't sure why. He isn't sure of much of anything at this point. All he knows is that his son tried to kill himself for the _second_ time in less than six months, and he couldn't feel like a worse father if he tried.

He's barely spent any time with Eddie since he came here, and that was more of him being a coward than anything. Eddie didn't want to talk so he gave him space, but Eric knows that part of him was grateful for Eddie's reluctance because he could hide behind it rather than facing the fact that he didn't know how to communicate with his own goddamn son. It's pathetic.

Every excuse in the book is pathetic. He knows that. He's allowed Eddie to be put through far too much and the guilt is eating him alive. There was so much that he could've done to fight for him. There was so much he could've done to keep him from being abused, to keep him from being…raped.

The thought makes him sick. He's never been more infuriated with his ex-wife. He's never been more disgusted and appalled by another human being in his life. He hates that sick bastard who did this to Eddie, but he hates Eddie's mother even more for allowing a pedophile like that _near_ his son.

If he didn't feel like a bad father before, he sure as hell does now. Eddie didn't deserve this. Eric can't blame him for attempting suicide again. The trauma was far too much for him, and Eric knows he'll never be able to understand how badly it affected him. All he knows is what he sees, and all he sees are scars.

He asked to see Eddie's arms before they wrapped them, and the amount of scars and cuts had him feeling sick. So many wounds, so many stitches – Eddie's destroyed his arms and Eric knows they're a physical representation of his inner turmoil which makes it so much more painful.

He reaches forward and takes one of Eddie's hands in his, rubbing his fingers over the smooth skin of Eddie's palm. Bringing it up, he lets his lips brush against the skin and blinks back tears in his eyes. This is the worst pain he's ever felt in his entire life. He never imagined it hurting this much. He never imagined himself in this place to begin with, but now that he's here, he feels like he can't breathe under the weight of everything.

This is a life that _he_ created. He brought this child into this world. And now, because of his selfish cowardice, this beautiful life that came into the world innocent, untouched by pain, a clean slate, is scarred. And it's all his fault.

Eddie was such a beautiful baby. He was happy and giggly and bubbly and full of life. His laughter lit up a room. Eric has such fond memories of bad days at work turning good when he came home and was greeted by the beautiful toddler he was so lucky to call his son. Some of his most memorable moments are teaching Eddie to walk, chasing after him as he toddled around at the park, being able to fully immerse himself into his role as a father.

And now look at him. Eddie is still beautiful, still perfect, still the precious baby boy he will always be, but he's been through so many years of abuse and neglect. He's been raped multiple times. He's been diagnosed with major depression, PTSD, social anxiety, and agoraphobia. He self-harms. He's suicidal. The world has done such a number on him and Eric knows it's partly his fault.

He needs to do better. Eddie needs someone he can trust that isn't a teenager. Eric can't be more grateful to Patricia and Jerome and all the other Anubis house kids, but they're teenagers and can only do so much. They can only do so much before it starts to affect them. They have their own problems to deal with. They shouldn't have to burden themselves with looking after someone as suicidal is Eddie is. It's not their job to worry about that. It's his. And he's been doing a shitty job of it since Eddie arrived in England. He's been awful and he knows it.

He's going to do better.

* * *

 **Thoughts? I thought it'd be interesting to see Mr. Sweet's side of things. He's done so many things wrong, but at least he's finally owning up to them and vowing to change. Whether he sticks to that...only time will tell. ;)**

 **Next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for. The one you've reviewed about asking for since the beginning. It's finally here. You guys know what to do if you want it. The more reviews I get, the quicker it's yours. (Hint: it's 100% Peddie)**

 **Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.**


	31. Chapter 31

**You guys really wanted this chapter, didn't you? I expected that much. Enjoy.**

 **Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, suicide, suicidal thoughts, and mentions of rape and abuse.**

* * *

Patricia's shaking as she follows Mr. Sweet down the hall.

He got to see Eddie first, since he's his father, but now Patricia's allowed to see him, and she's terrified. She knows he's awake. He woke up a little while after Mr. Sweet went in. They did all sorts of tests to make sure the pills didn't cause any kind of internal organ damage, rechecked his stitches, and now he's up for visitors. Two people can go at a time, but Jerome wanted her to go on her own. Patricia knows what he's implying but she's not so sure anything's going to happen.

Eddie just tried to kill himself. That's so much more important than her stupid lovesick feelings. That takes priority over anything else.

"Here we are." Mr. Sweet stops in front of a door and turns to face her. "Go ahead, Patricia. Take all the time you need, but make sure you give Jerome a chance to see him as well."

She nods, and reaches for the doorknob. She's trying to figure out how she's going to do this. How the fuck is she going to go in there and act like everything's okay? It's not. Her heart hasn't stopped pounding since she first saw Eddie's body. She's shaky and nervous and she feels like she's going to be sick. It's past midnight and she hasn't eaten anything in over twelve hours. Trudy's tried to coax her into grabbing something from a vending machine, but she has no appetite. She just wants all this to be over.

"Oh, and Patricia?"

She glances at Mr. Sweet. "Yeah?"

He sighs. "He was quite upset when he first woke up, about it not working. He tried to rip out his IV and tear his stitches. We managed to calm him down, but he's still on-edge about everything. Try not to get him hysterical again. It was hard enough to calm him down the first time. He's still not in a good place."

She nods. "I know how he feels. I know what to do." She's been in Eddie's place before; waking up in a hospital room after two failed suicide attempts, wondering what it would take for her to actually die…she knows it too well. She's never been on the receiving end of things but she knows what Eddie needs right now.

Without waiting for an answer, she turns the doorknob and steps into Eddie's hospital room, shutting the door behind her. Her gaze immediately fixates on the hospital bed in the center of the room, and Eddie has the same idea, because his eyes flicker over to her as well.

He looks so tired. He's pale and he looks weak. He's wearing a hoodie over a MCR shirt and some sweatpants. She can see the tips of white bandages peeking out from the sleeve of his sweatshirt and that brings tears back to her eyes.

"Hey Yacker," Eddie says. "Bet I look great, huh? Runway ready? C'mon, don't clam up on me now."

She's about to take the biggest risk of her entire life and she has no idea what's going to happen next. But this can't wait. Eddie may look tired and weak, but he still looks absolutely adorable. He's beautiful. There's just something about him that's so consuming. He makes her feel warm and happy inside and she wants to hold onto that feeling for as long as she can.

If this backfires she'll never forgive herself, but her gut is telling her to go for it. And up until now, her gut hasn't been wrong. She just hopes this isn't breaking that streak.

She makes her way over to the side of the bed, ignoring Eddie's attempts at making conversation, leans down, and kisses him.

She's expecting the worst. She's expecting him to shove her away, to rip his lips away from hers and kick her out of his room. She's expecting this to go horrendously wrong because nothing ever works out for her. Why should this be any different? She was anticipating him reacting negatively, him pushing her away, him being absolutely disgusted by the kiss.

None of that happens.

Eddie kisses back.

She feels him bring his arms up around her back, and she wraps her own around his neck. When they do pull away, it's solely for air. She stares at him, stares at his kiss-bitten lips, hungry for more. She wants to kiss him again. That felt just as amazing as she dreamed it would. But she knows they need to talk first.

"Jesus fuckin' christ," Eddie mumbles, bringing a hand to his lips. "That was…"

"Awful?" Patricia supplies, ducking her head. "Sorry. I didn't plan on doing that."

"I was gonna say amazing."

She looks back at him, blinking against the tears in her eyes. "Really?"

Eddie nods. "But why? Where's this coming from?"

"I like you," Patricia confesses. "I like you a lot. And I know you don't feel the same way, because why the fuck would you want to be with someone who made your life a living hell for a few months, but I needed you to know. It's okay, we don't have to talk about it ever again. You can pretend I don't exist if that'll make you happy. I don't-"

"Fucking hell, stop it," Eddie mutters, holding up a hand. "When did I say I didn't like it? That I didn't like _you_?"

"Why would you want to be with someone like me? I hurt you, Eddie. I hurt you so fucking badly. You _cut_ because of me," Patricia replies. "And now you probably think I'm a selfish bitch because you just tried to _kill_ yourself and I'm here talking about my stupid ass feelings."

"Are you actually gonna let me talk, or are you just gonna keep putting words into my mouth? Breathe for a second and hear me out, okay? Stop yacking, if that's possible." He smirks at her and she rolls her eyes. "You're not the only one who's been feeling different lately, Yacker. I didn't know what it was. Remember when I freaked out that one day and started talking about jumping off ledges?"

She nods.

"After that, after you helped me calm down from that panic attack, everything was different. You were different. You weren't just a friend. I forgave you so quickly after that because you felt like more than a friend. You're not the only one who's been having all these confusing ass feelings, Yacker."

She feels her face start to heat up. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better. Fuck my feelings. Don't spare them. Be honest."

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls her head back down to reconnect their lips. She will never get over how good it feels to kiss him. It's like coming up for a breath of fresh air. She feels that warm, fuzzy feeling inside and she loves it so much. She loves everything about this. She's so close to Eddie right now, both physically and emotionally, and she's starting to fall in love with the feeling.

"Honest enough for you?" Eddie says, as they pull away from each other. He lifts her chin and smiles at her. "I'm not like Adam, Yacker. I'm new to this too. I've never dated anyone before. My stepfather stole my first kiss. I barely know what I'm doing. But I do know that I'm not here to fuck with your feelings and leave you to pick up the pieces. I like you too."

"I'm still so sorry," Patricia mumbles. "I don't know how many more ways I can say it. But I've never been sorrier about anything in my entire life."

"Hey." Eddie cups her cheek. "You gotta stop that, okay? You've apologized enough. I've forgiven you. You need to forgive yourself, so we can move on. Let's put it behind us."

* * *

His throat hurts and his stomach is killing him, but none of that matters.

None of it matters because Patricia just did what he's been wanting to do for the past couple weeks. He's so glad she made the first move, because he knows it would've taken him way too long to work up the courage to do it himself.

Kissing her felt amazing. His first kiss was ripped away by his stepfather, but now the haunting memories of that have been replaced by the best kiss of his entire life. He's still so new to this, but so far his instinct has been leading him in the right direction. He's doing what feels right, and everything with Patricia feels so fucking right. He's never felt this good about any other decision he's ever made.

He's still not sure what propelled her to kiss him all of a sudden, but he's so happy about it. He knows he put her through hell. He knows she was the one to find him. He knows that they still have to talk about that. It's hard to forget about. It can't be pushed to the side. They're ignoring the elephant in the room and letting their feelings take control, but that can't be the case forever.

There's a part of him that's now genuinely happy it didn't work. When he first woke up, he was pissed, just the same as the last time. He was so fucking angry that he tried yet _again_ , and it didn't work. He wanted to die. But somehow, his body won't let that happen. He knows that the human body does everything possible to save itself, but he was hoping that it would disappoint one time, and give out. That didn't happen. He should still be angry about it, but he's not.

If he had died, he would've never known what it feels like to kiss someone for real. He would've never known the warm, fuzzy feeling of being able to be so close to the person you feel so connected with. He would've never known how good it felt to cuddle and kiss and love on the person that he's been basically in love with for so long. He wouldn't have known any of this, and it's things like this, feelings like this, that make life worth living.

He still has so much shit to work through and he and Patricia have so much to talk about, but he can't think about all of that right now. That's not important. What's important is what's going to happen with their relationship. How are they going to proceed? How's everyone going to react? What if they just don't work? He's never done this before, and he's so scared to fuck it up.

A lot of pressure rides on whatever relationship comes out of this. Technically, this is their first real relationship, for both of them. This is their first foray into what love actually is. Between her abusive boyfriend and his abusive stepfather, neither of them have ever had a decent example of love, and that's both a blessing and a curse.

It's a blessing because neither of them have expectations. There's nothing to live up to. As long as it's better than abuse, their relationship has surpassed all expectations. On the other hand, neither of them has had a good example of a healthy relationship. There are going to be issues and Eddie isn't sure that'll go down very well. He doesn't want to ruin things. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable. He doesn't want to be uncomfortable himself. He doesn't know if it's possible for all of them to be happy in this situation.

"Eddie? You okay?" He shakes his head to clear it, pulling himself out of his thoughts and back into reality.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbles. "Zoned out."

"Talking about our feelings is great and all," Patricia replies. "But you just tried to kill yourself…we should talk about that."

"What's there to talk about? It didn't work. My dad knows how fucked up I am. They've got me on a 72 hour pysch hold and then I'm being forced to see a therapist."

"I knew you'd do it," Patricia mutters. "The signs were all there. I had this feeling…you weren't okay. I knew it'd happen. I should never have left you alone."

"I just told you my stepdad raped me for years," Eddie deadpans. "You needed time to process. It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself for not babysitting me. And honestly…it was a long time coming. I've been in a shitty place for a long time. I still want to die. Nothing's changed. I don't…I don't know how to get better."

"I want you to be okay. I want you to be happy," Patricia admits. "I'll do whatever I can to help. Whatever you need. Just please, don't do this again."

"I have something to lose now, don't I?" Eddie smirks at her, grabbing her wrist to pull her closer to him.

She flinches.

He freezes. It's like someone poured cold water over his entire body. He knows exactly what happened but he doesn't want it to be real. She can't have relapsed. Not because of him. He doesn't want to be the reason she broke a year streak. "Yacker, you didn't…"

Patricia's stricken look confirms it. She tugs her arm out of his grasp and forces a smile that looks watery and forced. "Come on, Slimeball. You can't be that surprised…"

"You've been clean for so long, though…" Eddie shakes his head. "You were doing so well. And you relapsed because of me."

"No," Patricia replies. "I did it because I was stressed and nervous and anxious and that's what I do when I'm desperate. Jerome was busy calling everyone, Trudy was comforting your dad, and there was no way in hell I was talking to Victor. It's okay. I'm okay."

"Nothing's okay." Eddie slumps back against his pillows and closes his eyes. "You just relapsed. I feel like death. Everyone's fucked up. My life's a mess and I'm so sick of it. I just wanna die, fuck Yacker, why couldn't this have worked?"

Part of him is glad his suicide attempt didn't work, but more of him wishes it did. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to do this. It's too hard and too painful and he's had enough.

His only hope now is that this new thing with Patricia goes somewhere. That somehow, it becomes something he doesn't want to lose, something valuable enough that he stays alive for the sole purpose of not wanting to be without it. From the way things are looking right now, it seems like that's going to happen.

This thing with Patricia feels right. He's never felt this strongly about anything else. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. He needs this to be the first thing that doesn't end in disaster.

And who knows? Maybe it's finally time for his luck to turn around.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Did I deliver? I told you the wait would be worth it. ;) Because of all this Peddie, next chapter we're going to be catching up with Moy and Amfie on their way back to Anubis, and let's just say, for one of the couples...there's trouble in paradise. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Trigger warnings for self-harm, suicide, depression, anxiety, and racism.**

* * *

They're leaving the Millington's early.

Alfie couldn't be more relieved about it.

The circumstances are absolutely awful, but he's grateful to be getting out of there. That might make him selfish, and so be it. He can't handle anymore snide, racist comments from Amber's father. He can't handle functioning in an environment where he _knows_ he's hated. He's dangerously close to a breaking point, so much so that a part of him thinks he would've been the one to attempt suicide if Eddie hadn't.

The two days they've been here have been hell. The suicidal thoughts he got rid of a few years ago? They're back with a vengeance. And to make matters worse, Eddie tried to kill himself, that's why they're going back to school early. Everything about it is triggering and Alfie isn't sure how long he can hold on. He promised Jerome he'd stay strong, but he doesn't think he can do it for much longer.

"Alfie?" Amber's voice startles him out of his thoughts and he turns his head, glancing over at her. She reaches for his hand and he lets her take it. "Are you okay?"

"Eddie tried to kill himself," Alfie mutters. That's explanation enough. It's impossible to be okay at a time like this. And even if Eddie hadn't done it, he still wouldn't be okay. He's gone through the past couple days with a constant ache in his chest and head, that feeling you get before you burst into tears. It should've faded after their first conversation with Mr. Millington, but it didn't. It hurts and he's so uncomfortable. He wants all this to be over.

"I can't believe it," Amber replies. "I didn't…I didn't realize he was at that point. I didn't realize he was that sad…"

He hates this. Her father has put an unimaginable strain on their relationship and he hates it so much. He's overly cautious about what he says, skittering around Amber like a nervous wreck. He shouldn't be this stressed out over his relationship. It should make him happy, not cause him anxiety. He's been living in a constant state of anxiety for the past couple days and it's not fair. He doesn't deserve it. Maybe this relationship is more trouble than it's worth.

He can't do this anymore. He can't keep up with this lack of communication and tension in the air. It's painful. All it does is affirm his fears about Amber one day agreeing with her father. She's defended him a couple times, but it's clear that she can't stand up to her father, and with the type of person he is, he'll be able to convince her of the verity of his opinions soon enough. He's just trying to save himself the pain of that.

He just wishes it were under better circumstances. They're in a car, on their way back to school. If he does it right now, he won't be able to get away from her and give her a chance to process all of this. They still have an hour until they get back. But he's desperate. He can't wait. He needs to do this now. He'll do it, put his earbuds in, and try and fall asleep for the reminder of the drive. He knows that probably won't happen, but he can't wait any longer to do this. It needs to happen now.

"I can't keep doing this," Alfie says heavily, pulling his hand away from Amber's. "I don't know what to do, but I know that if we go on like this my head will explode. I can't keep doing this with you, Ambs. I love you, but I can't do this."

"Do what?" Amber asks. Alfie notes the fear and pain in her voice and sighs. He doesn't want to hurt her. That's the last thing he wants to do. But he doesn't know how to fix this. He doesn't know if this can even be fixed.

He's basically asking her to choose between him and her family. He knows she'll pick her family, she'll pick her father. This is for the best. A clean break will be better in the long run. It'll hurt now, but they'll be better off.

It's not like it's going to be easy for him to deal with this. He loves Amber. He loves her more than he can put into words. She's saved him in more ways than one. She's made him feel okay and at peace more times than he can count. There have been times when she was the only thing keeping him together.

But now, everything is different. Looking at her, all he sees is a father that doesn't accept him based on his skin color. He sees a future of fights, a future of being told to just suck it up and deal with it, a future of having to repress every shitty feeling he has until he explodes.

That's not the future he wants for himself.

Jerome was right. He needs to put himself first. And right now, that means distancing himself and working on his mental health. He hasn't been suicidal in almost two years, and now the thoughts are back and they're merciless. Something has to change.

"Be with you," Alfie whispers. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think your dad's views and hatred toward me would affect me this much, but it did, and I need to put myself first. I love you so much, but I need to do this. I'm sorry."

"Sorry that you're breaking up with me or sorry that it'll hurt?" Amber chokes out, her voice cracking. "I don't…I don't understand…I thought we were okay. You-you said we were okay…"

"Because I thought we were," Alfie replies. He's getting choked up too. He doesn't have long before the tears come. "I thought I could do this. I thought I could handle it, that it wouldn't be a big deal because it's your dad that's racist, not you. But that's all I see, every time I look at you. I see your father actively shitting on our relationship behind my back, I see you listening to him talk shit about my family, I see him convincing you that he's right…and I feel like I can't breathe. I haven't been suicidal in almost two years, Ambs. And what I've been forced to listen to for the past two days has me wishing it was me that tried to off myself instead of Eddie."

* * *

"Jerome!"

"Mara!"

Mara runs toward Jerome, straight into his arms. She closes her eyes as her head finds the crook of his neck instinctively and breathes him in. It's only been a few days, but she's missed him so much. Even though the circumstances are unfortunate, she couldn't be more happy to be in his arms again. They were the only couple that had to leave each other over break and it was the hardest thing to do.

"I'm so glad you're here," Jerome says. She pulls her head back and leans in to kiss him chastely. "Things have been…"

"A nightmare?" She supplies, the smile dropping from her face. "I can't imagine. Were you the one who y'know…found him…?"

"No, Patricia did," Jerome tells her. "She's in there with him now, so I've just been walking around and trying to stop panicking."

He's not mincing words. She doesn't respond, taking a second to get a good look at him. He looks exhausted. This happened right before dinner yesterday, and it's past noon. He probably hasn't slept. His hair is a mess, probably from his constant pulling. His clothes are wrinkled and his eyes are bloodshot.

She leans up to kiss his cheek, right under his eye. "Have you slept at all, babe? You look exhausted…"

"You really think I could sleep when we didn't know if Eddie was alive or not?" Jerome chuckles humorlessly. "Bull. I paced, had a couple panic attacks, and tried not to break down and relapse. It was awful."

"You need to get some rest…" While she's really worried about Eddie, Mara's also concerned about Jerome. This clearly shook him badly. He needs to rest and _breathe_ , otherwise he might end up relapsing. She knows how hard he worked to get clean and how painful it would be to start from square one again. He needs to resist, but she can't imagine how hard it is when he's being forced into situations like these.

"Jerome?" Patricia steps out of the hospital room just behind them. "You can see him- oh, hi Mara. I didn't know you were here."

"I just got in," Mara says softly. She pulls away from Jerome and walks over to bring Patricia into a tight hug. "I heard you found him…I'm so sorry, Patricia."

"It's okay." She can see tearstains on Patricia's cheeks and the same bloodshot look in her eyes. "He's alive. He's okay. That's all I can ask for."

When they pull away, Jerome comes up behind her and wraps an arm around her waist. "Let's go see him."

Patricia gives them a watery smile as they walk into Eddie's room. Mara isn't quite sure what to expect. She knows that no major damage was done, but mentally, Eddie's definitely not okay. Mental illness has never really been prevalent in her life. She doesn't know how to handle things like this. She's had to learn a lot, from Jerome, but she knows she's barely scratched the surface on everything.

"Hey guys."

Jerome detaches himself from her side at the sound of Eddie's voice, and almost runs over to his bedside. He grabs Eddie in a hug, and Mara watches with tears in her eyes as Jerome's chest heaves and he buries his head in Eddie's shoulder.

She follows Jerome up to Eddie's bedside and forces a smile. "We're so glad you're okay, Eddie."

Eddie uses one hand to hug Jerome back and holds out the other one for her. She grabs it and squeezes, looking straight at him. "Please, talk to someone. It doesn't have to be anyone in the house if you don't want it to be, but you need to talk to someone. We're so worried, Eddie. You really scared us."

"I know," Eddie replies. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. All we want is to help you get better."

* * *

He hasn't realized the severity of mental illness until now.

They're in a car on their way back to the school, and Joy is curled into his arms, her face pressed into his chest. She hasn't said much since they found out, and neither has he. They haven't had much to talk about. It's a really fucked up situation that no one can make sense of.

He can't believe this is happening again. He remembers it so well from last year. They went through this twice with Patricia, and he thought it was over after that. He thought the ache in his chest would subside and they'd never have to deal with it again. He never imagined being in this position for the third time.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand being at the point where you take a bottle of pills or slit your wrists open. He doesn't get it. Joy used to cut and he doesn't understand that at all. He doesn't see the point to any of it. He knows that it's a good thing he doesn't understand it, because he hasn't experienced it, but that doesn't change the fact that he can't comprehend why someone would want to slash a blade through their skin. He doesn't get it.

"Mick? You okay?" Joy lifts her head slightly to look at him. "Is your ankle hurting? You're tensing up…"

His gaze travels to his wrapped foot. He's stretched out in a horizontal position on the backseat with his ankle elevated on a pillow, and Joy is lying on his chest. "No, it's okay. I just…I can't understand this. I didn't with Patricia, both times, and I don't now. How the hell does someone _want_ to end their life? I know you've been suicidal in the past and I just…I don't get it."

"I'm glad you don't get it," Joy says immediately. "I never want you to understand. I never want you to know what this is like because it fucking _sucks_. Being suicidal is like standing on the edge of a cliff and not being scared to jump. It's walking into traffic and not caring if you get hit. It's doing casual things you _know_ will hurt, like not looking both ways when you cross the street or accidentally eating something expired or taking more than the required dosage of pills because you may not _intend_ to kill yourself, but if you died doing any of those things it'd be okay."

He knew it was bad, but he had no idea it was this bad. "Fuck…Joy, I…"

"It's a lot," Joy replies. "And you're never gonna understand it fully. But Eddie tried to kill himself because living hurts so much that he thought he'd be better off dead. When you get that far, it takes a lot to bring you out of the hole. That's why Patricia tried again after her first time. These thoughts, this mindset…they're dangerous. They're not something that go away very easily, trust me. I know…from experience."

"I wanna help you," Mick tells her. "You've been different recently and I don't know if it's because of your cutting or your suicidal thoughts or you've just been having a shitty couple weeks, but I'm worried. You haven't been the same since I fucked up my ankle and I don't know why."

Joy's eyes travel down to the floor. She mumbles something incoherent, resting her head back down on his chest.

"Hey." Mick uses both hands to lift her shoulders so they're looking at each other. He leans in and kisses her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "I need you to tell me what's wrong. I need you to let me in. I love you, Joy. Let me help you."

"I'm fine," Joy insists weakly. "Everything's just been a lot, these past few weeks. I dunno. Patricia and Eddie are spending more and more time together and I don't know how to feel about that."

"Why?"

"Because someone's gonna get hurt and I don't think I can pick up the pieces."

"You don't have to."

"She's my best friend."

"You don't have to fix all her problems."

"I just…" Joy sighs, shaking her head. "I feel like everyone's pulling me in every direction and I'm being stretched to the limit and I don't know what to do. I want to make everyone happy but I don't know how."

"That's because it isn't possible." Mick moves his hands to cup her cheeks, pressing their foreheads together. "It's not possible to make everyone happy. You're killing yourself trying to do something that's physically impossible."

"I don't know how to stop."

"I'll handle that," Mick murmurs. "You just need to relax, my love. You need to relax and stop worrying and stop thinking yourself into a dark place. Just breathe. Everything's gonna be okay, I promise. I'm here for you. Stop pushing me away."

"What happens when you leave? Or something happens to you? Don't you know by now that nothing's permanent?" Joy replies. "I'm just trying to prepare myself for the inevitable."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Before you all come at me with pitchforks, know that this had to happen. Alfie and Amber couldn't have stayed together to deal with this, it's much too big for that. He needs to focus on his mental health and she needs to realize the severity of her father's racism and how deep it cuts. She'll learn, but she can't if Alfie stays with her. There's definitely going to be a lot more surrounding this in future chapters, you'll get more context, don't worry.**

 **Next chapter, Nina and Fabian are on their way back, and a lot more Peddie. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	33. Chapter 33

**Trigger warnings - suicide and depression.**

* * *

"Fabian? Babe, you're gonna have to talk to me at some point. We're stuck on this plane for the next seven hours and it'll get pretty lonely."

Fabian keeps his face turned to the window, staring at the houses growing farther and farther away as the plane reaches its max altitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his fists. She knows he's angry. He has every right to be. But he's closing himself off, not saying much and refusing to talk about things. He can't keep doing that. Keeping everything inside will have him exploding.

"Fabian," Nina sighs, pulling at his arm. "What's bothering you? Talk to me."

She knows exactly what's bothering him, but he needs to say it. It makes it more real if he does. It'll hurt, but it's a necessary hurt. Eddie still would've tried to kill himself even if Fabian doesn't want to accept it. When they get to England, he'll have to face things head on. He needs to get used to the idea how.

"How can you even ask that?" He hisses, whipping his head around to glare at her. "How can you possibly not know?"

"Eddie tried to kill himself," Nina deadpans. "But he's okay. You know that. He's in for a 72 psych hold and then he'll get to come back to Anubis House."

"And you think that everything will be fine after that?" Fabian growls. "Normal? You think everything's gonna go back to normal after he fucking tried to _kill_ himself?"

"No, of course not," Nina says quickly. "But he's physically okay. That's more than can be said for his emotional state, but it'll take more time. He needs to heal. He's been through so much, Fabian. You know that better than anyone else. You had to have seen this coming."

"He promised me he wouldn't," Fabian whispers. "He _promised_."

"And he broke his promise and you're pissed about it," Nina replies. "But he was in pain, Fabian. He still is. You know that. You get up almost every night with him when he has those awful nightmares. He has a lot of problems, you've told me that yourself. And I don't know if you've been paying attention these past few weeks, but the signs were all there. The dark jokes, the dead look in his eyes, how his arms were _always_ covered…this was coming, Fabian. I know you don't want to believe it, but it was coming."

"I just…I don't understand…" Fabian trails off. "I don't get it. Why didn't he _call_ me? I told him to. I told him right before we left, to call or text if he was feeling bad, because I didn't want it to come to this."

"He's suicidal, Fabian. You did this to yourself with Patricia and now you're doing it again. Remember what she told us last time? When you're that far down, all you want is death. You've given up. You're done caring. You know it'll hurt people, but you're tired of doing everything for everyone else and nothing for yourself."

"He should've come to me."

"Fabian-"

"No!" Fabian glares at her. "He had us! He had _me!_ He has people who love him and care about him and he didn't give a shit! He tried to kill himself and didn't even think about how it would affect everyone else. All he was thinking about was himself. That's pretty selfish, if you ask me."

"Stop right there," Nina says steely. She turns in her seat and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Listen to me. You're about to go down a very dangerous road. There are a lot of people we know that have been suicidal in the past or are suicidal now, and they'd be really pissed at what you just said. Take a breath. Think about it. Suicide is not selfish. Suicide is a last resort, something that you come to after spending so much time hating yourself and hating the world and hating living. It's not something you decide to do on a whim."

"How do you know? It's not like you've ever tried to kill yourself."

Nina winces. Fabian's personality shift is drastic. She knows he's just reacting to the tragedy; there are various types of reactions to things like this and what he's doing is a prime example. But his crass, borderline rude remarks are unsettling. She's not used to this. She's not used to him being like this. It scares her.

"I've thought about it," she mumbles, so quietly she's not sure he hears her. "After my parents died, I seriously thought about it. I wasn't suicidal, it was just something that came to mind immediately because my life had just fallen apart and I didn't think it'd ever get better."

"Nina…" Fabian reaches for her hand and brings it to his lips. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that. I'm just so angry…I don't know why."

"Why you're angry or why he did it?"

"Both."

Nina sighs. "You're not going to understand it. Maybe that's a good thing. But once we get there you can talk to him yourself and figure things out. He's okay. He's awake. He'll be able to tell you why he did it."

"What if he just waited for us to leave so he could?" Fabian mutters. "Waited until I was gone so he could do it without feeling guilty."

"Fabian…"

"I don't understand," Fabian repeats. "He should've called me. He didn't need to do this."

* * *

"Amber and Alfie just got here."

Patricia glances at Jerome's text and sighs. "Guess we should stop all of this."

They're curled together on the bed, her head resting against Eddie's chest. It's been so nice, to talk to him, uninhibited, and be able to be this close to him. It's such an intimate feeling. She loves it. The past couple hours have been some of the best of her entire life.

"Do you want to tell people anything?" Eddie asks. "I mean, _are_ we anything?"

"I want to be," Patricia breathes. "But we should take things slow…"

"I'll take you out the second I get out of here, Yacker," Eddie swears, tilting his head down to kiss her. "Anywhere you want. Your dream first date."

"You're such a moron." Patricia rolls her eyes at him, but she's screaming internally. She never imagined this being real. She never imagined everything playing out in this way. Her dreams never come true. Good things don't happen to her. But this is everything she's dreamed about and so much more. There's so much pressure riding on it. She can't ruin it. "We shouldn't tell people yet. Not until we're sure this'll work."

"I was thinking the same thing," Eddie agrees. "Just so that if it doesn't things won't be awkward around the whole house."

Patricia nods. She glances over at the couple of chairs a few feet away. She doesn't want to leave him. She's being dramatic. It's a stupid thing to be upset about. But she feels safe and warm and comfortable and she wants to cling onto that feeling, hold onto it for as long as she possibly can.

"Hey." Eddie tugs at her arm and she turns to him, shaking her head. "It's just for a little while, Yacker. Trust me, we've got all night for you to yack to me. Don't worry."

"Weaselface," she mumbles, nudging his shoulder.

"That's a new one." Eddie holds open his arms. "Gimme a hug."

She pulls away from him and slides off the bed just as Jerome leads Amber and Alfie through the door. Perfect timing. She just hopes they don't notice her wrinkled clothes because that's a dead giveaway.

She watches Alfie and Amber walk in and something seems different. They're not holding hands, not even walking next to each other. Amber's face is tearstained. Alfie's posture is stiff.

Patricia meets Jerome's eyes and mouths her confusion, to which he shakes his head and holds up a finger. His arm is wrapped tightly around Alfie's shoulders, and Patricia can't see Alfie's face. He only lets go after leading Alfie right up to the side of Eddie's bed. When he lets go, Eddie reaches up to bring Alfie into a hug, and Jerome turns and walks over to her.

"What's going on?" She whispers the question, noticing how Amber curls herself into one of the chairs on the other side of the room.

"They broke up," Jerome whispers back. "It wasn't good."

Patricia freezes. Her heart is beating rapidly. She's fully alert, hearing that. It's an unsettling feeling. Something's wrong and that's why she feels like things are about to implode.

"Do-do you know what happened?"

Alfie and Amber are two of her best friends. She's known both of them for so long, Alfie moreso than Amber, but both of them all the same. She's grown up with them. They're family. She remembers when they announced their relationship, how happy they looked, and how excited she was for them. They both deserve happiness. She thought they had it. She thought they were infatuated with each other. Clearly, she was wrong.

Jerome sighs. "It's a long story."

"I've got time."

"I'll tell you later, okay?" Jerome promises. "I need to make sure he's okay."

"Jerome-"

"You don't know Alfie the way I do," Jerome reminds her. "He's not okay. He broke up with her an hour ago and they spent that hour sitting not even two feet away from each other in that car. The only reason he got through it is because we were texting the whole time."

He doesn't wait for a response. Patricia watches as he places a hand on Alfie's back and brings him into a hug of his own once Eddie lets go. She meets Eddie's eyes from across the room and they share a knowing glance.

Looks like his suicide attempt isn't the only thing that's going to tear the house apart.

* * *

He just has four more people left.

Four more people to apologize to and promise he'll never try and do this again.

He can handle four more people.

This process is exhausting. He's been through it with Jerome, Mara, Amber, and Alfie so far, and it is so fucking exhausting. _Lying_ is so exhausting. He doesn't count Patricia because he didn't really need to apologize and promise this would never happen again to her. He did it anyway, but what he has with her is so drastically different than what he has with Jerome, Mara, Amber, or Alfie.

Jerome was scared, understandably, but he didn't seem surprised. Patricia was the same way. Being that both of them have gone through the same thing, their reactions weren't too crazy. He just feels kinda guilty about what he did to Patricia. Finding his body…he never wanted it to be her. He knows that the reason she's clinging onto him is because she was so dangerously close to losing him. He knows how close to death he was. It's not unusual behavior but it does make him feel bad.

Amber and Alfie on the other hand…the news about their breakup was so shocking. He didn't expect it at all. He didn't think for a second they were even considering breaking up. They'd always seemed so happy together. He thought they were happy. He expected more hurt from them regarding why he did what he did, but because they were both focused on the breakup, that didn't happen.

Having to explain things to Mara was uncomfortable. She knew enough to ask a ton of questions, some of which he didn't even know the answers to. She wanted to know why and what the breaking point was and what she could've done to help, but he didn't know what to say. There was nothing anyone could've done. He was done and he was doing it no matter what anyone said and that was it. She...they all want answers and he doesn't have any.

"Eddie? Mick and Joy just got here." Patricia shoots him a sympathetic glance. "Joy just texted. They're on their way up now."

He groans. He's so sick of this. It's starting to make him wish he hadn't done anything in the first place.

Patricia walks over to him and grabs his hand. "I thought we- Yacker, didn't we say we weren't telling anyone?"

"We're not," Patricia replies. She leans down and kisses his cheek. "But you need some love really quick. And we should take advantage of having the room to ourselves."

"They're coming. I hear footsteps," Eddie says flatly. Patricia sighs. She presses one last kiss to his face before letting go of his hand and stepping back.

He wishes they could go public with it. He doesn't even know if they're technically dating, but he wants to be able to cuddle with her and kiss her the way that all the other couples do. He wants to feel free, like he doesn't have to worry about what he does and who could catch them. He wants to not feel suffocated about another aspect of his life, but the universe is determined to keep that from happening.

Maybe he's desperate for affection because he hasn't had any for so long. The kisses and cuddles with Patricia are the first glimpse he's had in years. He's been touch-starved and he's gotten so used to it that the hint of affection has him begging for more.

He just wishes things were different, but they're not.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Fabian is grieving. I know his change in personality is shocking (it'll be even worse next chapter), but he's grieving. He's upset and angry and frustrated, and that's a result of grief. He's not going to be like this permanently, I promise. Next chapter, Joy and Mick visit with Eddie, Fabian and Nina arrive, and of course, more Peddie. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Trigger warnings - suicide, depression, rape, and abuse.**

* * *

Joy keeps a hand on Mick's lower back as they walk into Eddie's hospital room. He's gotten used to the crutches, but there are still some times where he stumbles or wobbles unsteadily and she's promised herself she'll be there to catch him. She won't let him fall.

When she gets her first glimpse of Eddie, she freezes.

He looks like he's been through absolute hell. He's pale and there are huge bags underneath his eyes. He's in a t-shirt, allowing her to get a look at the gauze and bandages wrapped around both his wrists. The lump in her throat gets bigger and bigger as she tries to force back tears. She doesn't remember him looking this bad when they left. They've been gone for two days and he managed to fall apart.

"He really looks awful, doesn't he?" Patricia's voice startles her, and Joy jumps.

"Thanks, Yacker."

"You okay?" Mick glances back at her. Joy shakes her head to clear it, forcing a smile onto her face.

"Fine," she assures him. She looks back over at Eddie, who's smiling goofily at Patricia. She must've missed something. The way he's looking at Patricia is different. It's endearing. She's never seen him look at anyone like that before.

"When people come visit you in the hospital, you usually get some hugs and a 'how are you feeling'," Eddie says. "Unless I really hit my head and everything's different now."

She winces. Him talking about hitting his head has her imagining him going unconscious, passing out and hitting the floor, bleeding. It's such a scary thought. The tears build back up in her eyes and there's nothing she can do to stop them.

"Hey. Joy, hey, it's okay." Eddie slides off the bed and makes his way over to her. He brings her into a tight hug. "I'm okay. Everything's okay. You don't need to cry."

"I don't…we almost _lost_ you," Joy whispers. She presses her face into his shoulder and tries to stop her tears.

"I'm sorry," Eddie murmurs, rubbing her back gently. "I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"You hurt yourself." Joy pulls away from him and looks down at his bandaged arms. "You hurt yourself so badly and I don't…why? Why did you do that to yourself? You didn't deserve it."

"He's got some issues," Patricia interjects. "Things kinda spiraled and he panicked. But he's doing better. And therapy will help."

"I'm sorry," Eddie repeats.

She finds it strange that Patricia answered for him. The dynamic between them entirely seems odd. She doesn't quite know why, but they seem closer, so much closer than they were a week ago. Something's happened in the two days they've been away, but Joy has no idea what it is.

"Glad you're okay, mate." Eddie leans over to hug Mick carefully. Joy glances from him to Patricia.

Something is different. She needs to figure out what.

* * *

Walking into Eddie's room only makes him angrier.

They walk in on a scene of jokes and laughter. Patricia's saying something and Eddie's adding a usual snarky comment that has both of them and Mick and Joy cracking up. Things almost seem…normal. It's as if Eddie didn't just try to _kill_ himself.

"Fabian, Fabian, let go! You're hurting me!" Nina wrenches her hand out of his and he freezes, watching as all the noise in the room stops and everyone's eyes turn to him. He didn't realize he was even squeezing Nina's hand until she said something, but now everyone's looking at him like he has two heads because him being angry at all is so shocking.

Part of him hates the character he's created for himself. He's the nice one, the patient one, the sweet one. He doesn't get angry. He doesn't succumb to his emotions. He focuses on solutions rather than problems. He is the definition of calm. And now that he's made that person so concrete, he's not allowed to get angry. It's out of place and unwelcome. His emotions aren't welcome. He's only welcome when he's kind and patient Fabian. The emotions people don't wanna hear about, the sad, the dark, the angry…that Fabian is an uninvited guest that's made himself at home while everyone else wonders when he's leaving.

"Uh, hey guys," Mick says, trying to staunch the awkwardness that's now made itself painfully pleasant in the room. "How was America?"

"Great, until we got the call that Eddie tried to kill himself, although it seems like you all have already moved on from that," Fabian mutters.

The shock on their faces is evident. The tension in the room is building. He turns to look at Eddie, who's staring at him in confusion. Fabian gazes back, trying to communicate his feelings through his facial expression. He's pissed and he isn't afraid to show it. Suicide attempts aren't something people get over like a breakup.

"I think we should leave you guys alone…" Fabian watches Joy and Mick make their way out of the room, and looks expectantly at Patricia. He wants to talk to Eddie by himself, but from the incredulous look she's giving him, he doubts that'll be happening.

"Why are you being an ass, Fabian? Is it a crime to have fun?"

"He just tried to kill himself and you're acting like it's nothing!"

"It's not nothing," Patricia replies steadily. "No one said it was. We were trying to cheer him up. Take his mind off things. Make him forget about things that _caused_ this. Don't be a dick just because you don't understand."

Eddie leans up to whisper something in her ear. They argue back and forth for a bit, voices hushed.

"Don't yell at him," Nina hisses, glaring at him. "You're not making this any better."

"Am I supposed to just give him a hug and thank him for not dying?" Fabian retorts. "Because I'm pretty sure that if it was up to him he would've given up without a second thought!"

"Okay." Eddie turns back to them. "Nina, Yacker, would you mind giving us some privacy? Clearly Fabian and I have some things to talk about."

"Be nice," Nina warns, as she follows Patricia out of the room. Fabian scoffs. Be nice? He's not being mean. He's just telling the truth. The truth is that Eddie would have given up without a second thought if he had the choice. The truth is he didn't consider anyone else's feelings when he did what he did. The truth is he was a selfish asshole that's not even happy he lived. The truth is that Fabian's done with all of this.

"You're pissed at me." Eddie speaks as soon as the door shuts. Fabian watches him scoot upward to sit against his pillows. The sight of the stark white bandages on his arms makes his stomach turn. "Go on, let it all out. Now's your chance. I won't tell Nina, you can scream at me all you want."

"How could you?" Fabian yells. "You promised me you wouldn't!" Tears are burning in his eyes and his heart is pounding in his chest. His anger is white-hot, burning through his veins with an uncontrollable force. He's never been this pissed in his entire life. He could strangle someone with his bare hands. The irony is how atypical that is for him. Anger does crazy things to people.

"I know," Eddie replies. "And I'm sorry. But Fabian, you gotta understand…my head's a fuckin' mess. Has been for years. I don't deal with shit right. I bury things and forget about them until they come back to bite me in the ass and everything builds up until I have a breakdown. I'm sorry it hurt you and I'm sorry I broke my promise, but you have no idea what led up to it."

"Then tell me! Fucking tell me, for god's sakes! You don't tell me anything! You say you'll come to me and you _don't_! And then Patricia calls me and tells me you overdosed!" Fabian exclaims. "What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Eddie sighs. "I don't know. I've never been on the receiving end of that phone call. All I know is I was done, Fabian. I was done. I didn't want to live anymore. Part of me still doesn't. This is so much bigger than you. I didn't do this because I wanted to hurt you. I did this so I could stop hurting myself."

"But it didn't work, did it?" Fabian shoots back. "You didn't get what you wanted. So that means you'll try again, doesn't it? It means you'll put us through hell _again_. How can you be that selfish, Eddie? We're trying to help and you don't even give us a chance. You do…you do _that_ without even bothering to give us a fucking _chance_! How much more selfish can you be?"

Eddie's facial expression hardens, but he doesn't start screaming back like Fabian expected. When he speaks, his voice is steely calm. "After my parents got divorced, for ten years, I was beaten. Punched. Kicked. Slapped. Thrown against walls. I was told I was worthless. A piece of shit no one wanted. My own mother told me she wished she had aborted my sorry ass. It took ten years for someone to realize something was wrong and do something about it. She got married not even a year after the divorce; to the guy she'd been cheating on my dad with. And he raped me for over two years. It destroyed me completely. That's where the PTSD comes from. Those nightmares? They're _hell_ , Fabian. I'm not even safe in my sleep. I'm transported back there and it wrecks me all over again. That's why I didn't stop cutting. That's why I've been such a basket case. That's why I did this. My life is a fucking mess, Fabian. So honestly, am I really that selfish for wanting it to be over?"

* * *

"He had no fucking right to come in here and talk that shit."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Stop. Come here. Come cuddle. It's been a long few hours of pretending we still hate each other."

Patricia huffs and climbs onto the bed next to him. She kisses the side of his head. "He still had no right to talk to you like that. But it's so weird. I've never seen him like that. That's not the Fabian I know."

"He's pissed because I didn't come to him even though he told me to. He doesn't understand, Yacker. This is new to him. We can't blame him for that."

"Didn't what he said hurt you?"

"No," Eddie replies immediately. "Because I know it was the grief talking. It was the anger talking. It wasn't him. He's confused and he's hurt and that's partly my fault."

"How? You were in pain, Eddie. You'd given up." It hurts her to say those words but she knows they're true. She knows the verity because she's felt the same way. That's why this doesn't faze her as much as everyone else, because she knows exactly how Eddie felt and it's more important to give him love and affection than spend hours debating his reasons for doing it.

"He doesn't get that, Yacker. He's never felt it before. He doesn't understand. It doesn't make sense to him. All he sees is that I promised him something and then broke it. If it were me I'd be pissed too. He just needs time. It's Fabian. He'll come to his senses eventually, and knowing him, fuckin' grovel for forgiveness."

"But I just…I've known Fabian for _years_ …that was scary…I've _never_ seen him act like that. If I didn't know better I'd think he was Fabian's asshole twin or something…"

"Grief fucks people up," Eddie replies. "Probably why my mom married an asshole who beat and raped me for years after my dad left her."

"Eddie, I…"

Eddie chuckles. "It's okay. You gotta stop treating me like I'm fragile, Yacker. I can talk about it. I'm not about to break. Of all people I thought you'd get that."

"I'm sorry," she sighs. "I just don't get how you can be so nonchalant about it. You talk about it like it didn't fuck you up this badly and I don't get why."

"Because being this sarcastic about it is better than having a panic attack every time it's brought up," Eddie mutters. "If I'm like this about it, it doesn't hurt as much. And I've learned that having panic attacks every time I talk about it means they win. They break me for good. And I don't want that. Plus, it makes me sound so much more hardcore, don't ya think?"

"Weaselface." She nudges his shoulder and scoots down to rest her head in the crook of his neck. "You don't seem okay a lot of the time, and I worry. You make me worry so much. Sometimes the things you say…they're probably jokes, but they're really dark, Eddie. Like when you and Jerome were joking about wanting a rope and pills for Christmas."

"Aw Yacker, that wasn't completely serious," Eddie assures her. "I was suicidal then, so it was kinda true, but I was joking. That's just my sense of humor. But I'll try and tone it down. I don't want you to worry so much."

"I'll always worry about you." She lifts her head off his shoulder and leans in for a kiss, cupping his cheek. "Even if you didn't have suicidal tendencies I would."

"You too."

A few minutes of silence go by. Patricia curls back into Eddie's chest and focuses on his heartbeat below her ear. It's heaven to her ears, considering what he just tried to do.

"Eddie…what are we? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? I-"

"Stop," Eddie says. "There is no way in hell we're friends with benefits. You mean more to me than that. So much fucking more. And Yacker, if you're into the dating thing, I'm down for it. If you wanna take things slower, that's cool too. Whatever you're comfortable with."

This. This is why she's falling in love with him. Deep down, under all the sardonic comments and asshole-like persona, is this soft, sweet, adorable guy that she can't get enough of. He's sarcastic and borderline rude but she loves those parts of him too. Eddie isn't normal and that's what she loves most. Normal is boring. Normal is clichés and she'll be damned if she ever becomes one of those.

Eddie is different. He's special. He's the kind of guy that's worth fighting for. She wants someone who understands her. Ever since Adam, she's wanted someone who'll understand her, someone the exact opposite of him. She's wanted someone who knows what it's like, who gets that some days are bad, who understands that she's a little broken and that's okay. Eddie's a little broken too, and somehow, their broken pieces fit together.

"Did…did I say something…?"

"No!" She zones back into reality and shakes her head vigorously. "You're perfect. I was just thinking."

"Do you…not want to do this?"

"I do." She turns her head to kiss him. "I really do. I wanna be your girlfriend, Eddie. And we can be like all the other gross couples and make out and be disgustingly _happy_."

"I guess it's settled then." He shoots her one of his signature smirks and she leans in again, only this time, she thumps his head.

"Ow!"

"You deserved that."

"Why?"

"You made fun of me."

"I did not!"

"You did!"

"Did not!"

"Weaselface!"

"Yacker!"

Patricia's staring at him with a stupid grin on her face. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. But she feels so warm, so light, so happy… _this_ is what love is. This is love. This is what she was missing from Adam, what she got from Eddie in a matter of days that she couldn't get from Adam in years. This is a feeling so delicate but so comforting. It's a feeling of warmth, a feeling of security that wraps itself around her like a blanket. She never wants to let it go.

She leans in and kisses him again, winding her arms around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. He tastes amazing, he always has, and the way his arms snake around her torso as he pulls her on top of him feels just right. She feels safe and protected and she never wants it to end.

When they pull away, she stares at Eddie for a few seconds, taking him in, until she flops down and rests her head on his chest.

Eddie presses a kiss to her head and she closes her eyes. "Thank you," she murmurs. "Thank you for this. You have no idea how much I needed it."

"No, thank _you_ ," Eddie replies. "For giving me a reason to stay."

* * *

 **Thoughts? How'd you guys feel about Fabian's conversation with Eddie? I know it was OOC, but that's what grief does to people. Suicide attempts don't just affect the person who attempted. Their loved ones feel the effects as well. I wanted to highlight that.**

 **Additionally, I wanted to address something. I got a review last chapter saying that they hoped Eddie and Patricia's relationship would stay true to the show, with the teasing and bickering, without the overly lovey stuff. It will. The only reason it seems so OOC right now, is because of the situation. Patricia found Eddie's body lying in a pool of his own blood. That's why she's clinging to him. That's why they're acting overly coupley. She almost lost him and this is her way of coping. Once that wears off and things return more to normal, their relationship will get back a lot of what you've seen on the show, I promise.**

 **Next chapter, Nina confronts Alfie, Alfie opens up to Jerome, and Eddie sees his father for the first time since his suicide attempt. Let's just say...their conversation is interesting. ;)**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Trigger warnings - racism, abuse, mentions of suicide, self-harm, and depression.**

* * *

Nina storms over to the other side of the waiting room, where Jerome and Alfie are sitting. She takes a glance over her shoulder to make sure Amber's looking away, before turning back to glare at Alfie. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you? How could you do this to her? How could you break her heart like that? And you, Jerome, how come you're comforting _him_? Amber's the victim here, not this asshole!"

Alfie flinches violently as she finishes, and she smiles, knowing she's gotten her point across. He brings his knees up to his chest and buries his face in them. Nina watches Jerome frantically whisper something to him, resting a hand on his back and rubbing in firm circles. It only serves to make her angrier. Why the fuck is he still comforting Alfie? He broke up with Amber for no damn reason. He broke her heart for no fucking reason. It's infuriating.

"Come with me," Jerome says sharply. He stands and grabs her wrist, yanking her out of the waiting room and into an empty hallway. "What the hell was that?"

"The truth," Nina mutters. "Sorry you had to find out this way, but Alfie's a dick. He was so in love with Amber before break, and then he just randomly goes and breaks up with her? For no reason?"

"He broke up with her because her dad's a racist asshole, Nina!" Jerome snaps. "And he hates Alfie and their relationship because Alfie's black!"

Nina freezes. She grabs onto the wall to steady herself because she's sure her legs won't hold her up any longer. The words are paralyzing, chilling her to the bone. "What?"

Jerome crosses his arms over his chest. "Amber's dad was making these fuckin' awful comments about Alfie and his family all the time during the two days they were there. He thought, when she first told him her dad didn't like him, that it wouldn't affect their relationship, but it did. He couldn't handle it. That is _not_ his fault. Get your facts straight before you come over here and try to vilify my best friend."

"I'm sorry," Nina ventures. "You're right. I didn't know. Is he okay?"

"Is suicidal okay?"

"Jerome…"

Jerome sighs. "It used to be really bad, way before you came to the house. Middle school and the beginning of high school. He thought that if no matter what he did, a white person would always be considered better than him, why bother living? And Nina, the shit he got these two days brought all that back. He hasn't been suicidal in _years_. He broke up with Amber because he needs to focus on his mental health. He needs some space. He needs to breathe. He needs to focus on his own health before a relationship. And honestly, Amber does too. She needs to figure her shit out. Does she love Alfie enough to possibly choose him over her father? Part of the reason Alfie did this is so she wouldn't have to choose between them. He made it easy for her."

"Easy? How could you possibly think this is easy?" Nina says incredulously. "She's a mess and he's clearly a mess too. This is destroying them both. Don't you think things would've been easier to work out if they stayed together and got through it as a couple? They wouldn't have all these shitty feelings on top of everything."

"No, they wouldn't have," Jerome replies. "She has a choice to make. She needs to decide if their relationship is worth fighting for. Is Alfie worth it? Is she willing to cut ties with her father for him? Will she defend him; fight her father no matter what, for him? Because that's what he needs. He needs her on his side. She can't be neutral. Not for something like this."

"Jerome-"

"This is Amber's problem," Jerome reminds her. "And by extent yours, because you're her best friend. You guys need to figure it out. If she wants any chance of getting Alfie back, she needs to sort her shit out." He pushes himself off the wall and starts walking back toward the waiting room. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a suicidal best friend to get back to."

* * *

"She didn't mean that. She didn't know."

Jerome drops back into his seat and rests his hand on Alfie's back. He's still hunched over, head buried in his knees. Jerome's heart is breaking for him. He looks as miserable as he feels and it's awful. He hates seeing him like this.

"I ruined everything," Alfie whispers hoarsely. "I broke Amber's heart and now Nina's mad at me too and they'll get everyone else on their side and they'll all hate me! I ruined everything! Everyone's going to hate me! I don't even know why you're staying. I clearly don't deserve it."

"Because you're my best friend," Jerome says firmly. "Because we've been there for each other through everything, whatever we needed, and I'm not about to break that streak now. No matter what, I will always be on your side. Never doubt that."

Jerome hates this. He hates that Alfie has to go through it. He hates the world for being fucked up enough to make someone think they're inferior based on the color of their goddamn skin. He hates Amber's father for thinking he has the right to make Alfie hate himself this much. He shouldn't have that kind of power. It's unjust and unfair and Jerome still has trouble comprehending the fact that it's 2013 and racism is still prevalent.

"I couldn't do it." Alfie lifts his head and Jerome winces at his bloodshot eyes. "I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like I was trapped in a box and the walls were closing in. That's how it's felt ever since she told me about her dad. I'm not strong enough for this."

"Stop." Jerome rises to his feet and holds out a hand. "Let's go for a walk, okay? You need some fresh air."

"Fresh air won't do shit."

"It won't hurt."

"I want to die, Jerome," Alfie says flatly. "I don't want to live like this. Not anymore. I can't do it. Just when I think I'm okay, that the bad stuff's over, something else happens and I'm right back at square fucking one. It's exhausting."

"I know," Jerome replies. This isn't news to him. It's scary, but it's not news. He knows that Alfie used to feel this way. It just hurts to know that those feelings have come back, feelings he thought they got rid of a couple years ago. It hurts to know that Alfie feels just as lost and hopeless as he did when he was twelve years old and thought that he'd amount to nothing all because of melanin.

"You need to go check on Amber," Alfie tells him. "Make sure she's okay? Please? She won't wanna see me right now. I don't blame her. But I need to know she's okay."

"Nina's with her, she's fine," Jerome reassures him. "Let's worry about you now."

"No," Alfie mutters. "I'm the bad guy here. I'm the one who broke up with her because I can't get over my stupid feelings. She's the victim, not me. I don't deserve any of this. I know it's your duty or whatever, to stay loyal to me, but I don't deserve it. She does."

"You _do_ deserve it," Jerome insists. "You didn't break up with her because you're a dick who likes stringing girls along. You broke up with her because you feel like the walls are closing in again and being with her is a reminder of everything you worked so hard to get past."

"I wanted to get back together with her," Alfie says wistfully. "Like, after I worked my shit out. But I don't know if that'll ever happen. I don't know if I'll ever see her as anything more than a reminder of her father, a reminder that all black people are destined to have jobs as janitors and waitresses, that they couldn't possibly be educated or rich or decent parents to their kids." He sighs. "I know she's not her father. I _know_ that. But she didn't defend me. She didn't stand up for me. She just let it happen. And I don't know if I can be with someone like that…"

* * *

This is one of the most awkward moments of his entire life.

The cycle of friends has rotated through enough times to get his dad's attention, and now Eddie finds himself face to face with his father, unsure of what to say and even more unsure of why he's heart is pounding so fast and he feels like he might be sick.

"I think I have a pretty good idea of why you did this…but I want to hear it from you. What triggered this, Edison?" Eric asks, reaching for his hand.

More than nervous, he's angry. He's angry that this had to even happen. He's angry that they're having this conversation right now. He's angry that his father didn't care enough to do something after he came to England, didn't care enough to _help_ him, until he tried to kill himself again. There's a pattern forming and it's infuriating.

"Nothing triggered it," Eddie replies slowly. "But really, I think I have the better question. Why does it take me trying to kill myself for you to actually give a shit about me?"

His father sighs. "I know that may be what it looks like, but I can assure you it's not. I just…I didn't know how to talk to you. I didn't know what to say."

"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard!" Eddie exclaims. He shifts against his pillows to sit straighter and crosses his arms over his chest. "Don't talk headmaster to me. I try to kill myself in the group home, you call and act all concerned. I try to kill myself here, and you're by my bed, acting like you're some great fucking father. You're not."

"I've hurt you," Eric says firmly. "I've hurt you and I've let you get hurt and I haven't been there for you like I should've been. I'm not going to make excuses. I just want you to know how sorry I am, Edison. You've been through so much, most of which could've been avoided had I been a little less…absent."

"Absent?" Eddie growls. "Is that what you call hearing that your son tried to kill himself but not wanting to waste the money to fly across the world and see him? I'm sorry I'm not even worth that much to you!"

Eric shakes his head. "I didn't know until you were about to be released from the hospital, Edison. I would've come if I had known earlier, but you were just released and immediately put on a plane here. There was no point."

"You didn't come afterward," Eddie whispers. There's a lump in his throat and his eyes are getting glassy. He wants to know why he wasn't good enough. Why didn't his father love him? Why didn't he care? Why wasn't he important enough? "What did I do wrong? Why am I not good enough for you?"

"Edison-"

"Answer me!" Eddie yells, a tear breaking out of the barrier and cascading down his cheek. "Fucking stop with your stupid teacher bullshit and answer the damn question! You say you're sorry, but it's all your fucking fault! Why didn't you fucking care? You know what I spent the day wondering after I tried to kill myself the first time? What it would fuckin' take for you to drop everything for me, since obviously trying to commit suicide wasn't enough!"

"You're working yourself up," Eric mutters. "You need to breathe. Take some deep breaths. Calm down."

Taking a deep breath gives him a chance to realize how hard he's shaking. He feels like his heart is about to stop. This gets him so worked up, so emotional…it's not good for him and he knows it, but he can't help being infuriated. He can't help hating his father for not being there for him. He can't help not being able to forgive and forget although he knows that's what's wanted of him.

A hand finds the small of his back and begins rubbing in firm circles, as he inhales again. "I really am sorry, Edison. I know that's not nearly enough to cover everything I've put you through, but it's a start. I want things to get better between us."

Eddie shakes his head. "Can you go? I can't do this right now."

He nods. "Will you at least consider giving me a chance? I really would like to make this up to you, Edison, in whatever way you'll let me."

"Yeah." Eddie swallows hard and forces a smile. "I'll try."

He waits until his father has left the room before he lets himself cry, fat tears streaming in rivulets down his cheeks, as he imagines not having to go through all of this. He cries for what he's been through, the hell that's still going on, the life he was forced into that he still doesn't want to live. He cries for the nights of terror and pain and misery all mixed together and chalks this night up as one of them.

But most of all, he cries for the life that he's always wished he could live, a one free from anguish and fear and sadness.

* * *

 **Thoughts? This is the last of the hospital chapters. Next chapter, Eddie's home, although things still aren't easy. Along with that, we've got Nina and Fabian talking about things, and more Peddie.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	36. Chapter 36

**I'm really sorry, guys.**

 **I know it's been two weeks and I know I probably worried some of you all, but things have been crazy recently. Last Friday, well, last Wednesday, I left for Florida, for my senior trip, and I didn't get home until Sunday, so I couldn't post on Friday. The Friday before that, well...I had a minor mental breakdown and needed some time to myself. School's been absolutely crazy and my life is a bit out of control right now. I only have two chapters and half a third in reserve, not counting this one, which is kinda a problem. I like to be ahead so I don't have to worry about writing, and I just haven't had time to write. I'll try to work on things this weekend, but I have a lot of schoolwork to do, so I can't make any promises about a new chapter next Friday. Next Friday is the start of my spring break, so I'll definitely have time to write and things will go back to normal, I promise. I'm really sorry about all of this. Enjoy the chapter.**

 **Trigger warnings - suicide, depression, self-harm, PTSD, and anxiety.**

* * *

Sitting next to Patricia and not being able to grab her hand is torture.

He was released from the hospital an hour ago, and now they're all sitting in the common room, talking. Well, most of them are talking. Joy and Mick are trying to break the record for longest make out session, Amber is curled in an armchair, not talking to anyone, and Jerome and Alfie are in their room. But everyone else is talking. Eddie can't stop thinking about holding Patricia's hand, cuddling with her, kissing her…the past couple days have been brutal. They've only been able to act like a couple when they were alone, which, considering their eight housemates, was not very often.

"I'm gonna go work on some songs," he mutters, rising to his feet.

"Wait, love." Trudy rushes out into the hall, apron tied around her waist, holding a whisk. "Someone should go with you, I don't feel comfortable letting you be by yourself just yet."

He has to hold in a sigh. He knew they wouldn't trust him yet, especially not alone. It'll take a while to earn that back. He tried to kill himself, it's not like they're going to forget it happened in a few days.

"I'll stay with him," Patricia offers. She shoots him a knowing glance, and he has to fight not to smile back at her. They're still trying to keep things quiet. They've established that they're boyfriend and girlfriend, but it'd still be a bad idea to spread the word this soon. He wants to wait until they've been dating for long enough to assure they won't break up over something stupid and cause a rift in the house. It's barely been a week. They're still in the honeymoon phase.

Eddie forces a smile onto his face and heads for the room he shares with Fabian. He slumps down onto his bed, and only then does he notice that the sheets have changed. They're not his usual dark grey ones. They've been replaced with light blue sheets and a darker blue duvet.

"Trudy had to get rid of your sheets," Patricia says from behind him. "You kinda…your blood was all over them…"

He rolls over onto his back and scoots up so he's lying against the pillows. "Come here, Yacker."

She leans up to peck his lips, and then curls into his arms and buries her fact in his chest. "It was fuckin' scary, Eddie, seeing you lying in a pool of your own blood. I don't think I'm ever gonna get that image out of my head."

"I'm okay," Eddie reminds her gently. "I'm fine. And I'm here. Whatever you need, I'm here."

"This is nice."

"It'd be better with some music."

"Not Pierce the Veil or Sleeping With Sirens for the sake of my sanity, thanks."

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out of his pocket. "You should listen to Misadventures. You'd like it, I promise."

Patricia heaves a very heavy, exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Put it on."

Eddie smiles victoriously and hits play. He sets his phone down on his nightstand and tightens his grip on Patricia, pressing a kiss to her hair. "You need to tell me if we're moving too fast, okay? If I start to do something, _anything_ , that reminds you of Adam, you need to tell me. I don't want this to be shitty for you."

"It won't be," Patricia replies. "You've already done more for me in two days than Adam did in two years. He was never this affectionate, Eddie. He just wanted to have sex. Got pissed when I said no. He-"

"He didn't force you, did he?" Eddie's heart is pounding as he says the words. He's usually okay with talking about this, but the idea of Patricia experiencing the hell he went through, being raped, is enough to have him on edge. "Please tell me he didn't."

"Hey, calm down." Patricia pushes herself onto one elbow and uses her other hand to stroke his cheek. "He didn't force me. I promise he didn't. He tried, but I didn't let him. You need to breathe, okay? You're panicking."

"M'fine."

"You're not. I can hear how fast your heart's beating and your breathing is messed up." She pulls him into her arms and he sighs, burying his face in her shoulder and closing his eyes. "Breathe with me, okay?"

He inhales and exhales with her, focusing on her breathing and the steady beating of her heart. "I'm so fuckin' sick of this."

"Go to sleep," Patricia tells him. She moves her hand to his back and begins rubbing small, firm circles. "I'll be here."

"I can't."

He knows how bad his nightmares get, but she's only seen one. She's only seen him have one, and even so, it wasn't the worst one he's ever had. He can't just fall asleep at the drop of a hat. He knows the nightmares will be bad. He doesn't want to subject her to that. It's not fair of him. She doesn't deserve it.

"You look exhausted, Eddie."

"I am," he mutters. "Emotionally. But it's okay. Just laying here with you is nice. Don't worry about it."

Patricia falls silent, and he sighs, grabbing her hand. "This is nice," he repeats. "You calm me down, Yacker. I'm okay, I promise."

The words are empty and he knows it. He doesn't know why he bothers trying anymore. His past is determined to fuck him up and he doesn't know what to do. Every time he tries to be happy something else goes wrong.

Maybe he's just not destined to be happy.

* * *

"Why are you still so angry about this?" Nina sighs. "You told me Eddie explained everything. What the hell else is there to be angry about?"

"I'm not angry at him," Fabian sighs. "I'm angry at myself." He rolls over onto his other side, turning away from her and focusing his gaze on the few posters and picture frames she has on her wall.

Nina scoffs. "Because that's so much better. If you spent less time being angry and more time being _sorry_ , maybe you could fix things with Eddie."

"I am sorry!" Fabian exclaims. "I feel like I can't breathe under the weight of how horrible I was to him. He tried to kill himself, he was clearly fragile, and I went in there with my own stupid agenda, trying to make him talk about things he was uncomfortable talking about. I got what I wanted in the end, but he's probably a mess and it's my fault."

"It's not." Nina tangles one hand in his hair and rests the other on his back. "Grief's weird, Fabian. Sometimes it turns straight to anger. After my parents died, I was angry. I was angry for a long time, angry at the people who were driving drunk, angry at black ice for existing, angry at snow for making it harder for them to see that night…the list goes on. I got over it eventually, like you have. I'm sure Eddie understands that you didn't mean what you said."

"He didn't deserve it to begin with. He's been through enough without me thinking I'm some kind of entitled asshole and expecting answers. I told him that he was _selfish_ , Nina. Eddie. _Selfish_. He's the most selfless person I've ever met, and I called him selfish. What kind of person does that make me?"

"A person who made a mistake. A person who was grieving and couldn't see the situation properly. A person, Fabian. You're human. You're allowed to make mistakes. You're not perfect and no one expects you to be."

"No one expected me to lash out at Eddie either, looks like expectations really aren't accurate, are they?"

"Fabian, look at me."

He's still for a couple seconds, until she shakes his shoulder and he rolls back over onto his other side. "What?"

"You did a shitty thing," she deadpans. "Doesn't make you a shitty person. Go back, go apologize. Let him know how sorry you are. He'll forgive you. I know he will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Do you trust me?"

"With anything."

"I'm sure," Nina repeats. She nudges his shoulder and points to the door. "Go. Stop sulking and figure out how to apologize to him. You both need this. He'll forgive you and then you can finally forgive yourself."

* * *

"You don't have to do this, y'know…"

Eddie's gaze flickers from the bandages on his nightstand to his arm in her hands. Patricia rolls her eyes. "Yeah? And what poor, unfortunate soul were you planning to force the job on then? Your arms are a mess, Eddie."

"Don't even need them wrapped in the first place."

"Bull. You can't be tempted," Patricia growls. "Do you not remember cutting so deep you needed a blood transfusion? You don't have any room left so your only option would be reopening old cuts, which would be even worse."

"Yacker-"

"Shut up and let me do this, okay?"

"But they're probably triggering you…I don't want you to do something because of this."

"I won't," she replies, continuing to wrap the bandages around his arm. The cuts have healed, all except for the stitches on his left arm from that deep wound. She's just wrapping his right arm to keep him from being tempted to do something. She can't wrap his left arm because covering up the stitches would make it so much easier to get an infection, so she's just hoping they're enough of a deterrent. "There you go." She secures everything with a clip and lets go of his arm.

"Come here." Eddie pulls her in for a kiss and then hugs her tightly. "Thanks."

"We should go out there before someone walks in on us."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not dumb, Patricia."

She sighs. "It's just a lot, y'know? And you make it okay. But we're about to go out there and hang out with everyone and it fuckin' kills that I can't kiss you or touch you or anything…"

"Do you want to tell people?" Eddie asks pulling her down into his lap. "Because I feel the same way. It's so hard to hide, so much fuckin' harder than I thought it'd be."

"What if we don't work, Eddie? What if we break up? You've seen what Amber and Alfie's break up is doing to the house…"

"Not really," Eddie mutters. "I think most of us are on Alfie's side."

"Amber's not racist though, her father is. She can't control the shitty things he said."

"But she didn't defend him," Eddie points out. "She didn't stand up for him and that's just as bad. He needs people to stand up for him. What fuckin' sucks about our society is that people like him don't have a voice. White people do. So they need to use that voice for good, rather than just letting shit happen."

"You're right," Patricia sighs. "You're completely right. But Amber's never come across anything like this before. It's all new. She needs time."

"She needs to get off her ass and stand up to her dad if she wants a chance at Alfie and her ever working again."

"See what I mean? This is dividing us already and it's not even our break up! Is telling people _really_ a good idea?"

"I think it is," Eddie replies. "We agree on the Amber and Alfie thing. You just see more of Amber's side, while I see more of Alfie's."

"I agree with you," Patricia says earnestly. "Really, I do. I just…I don't know…I don't want anyone to be mad at me. I've had enough of the people in this house hating me. I feel like if I don't see Amber's side she and Nina and all the girls won't be too happy."

"That's dumb. You feel however you want to feel. Fuck what anyone thinks about it. And besides, it's not our relationship that needs fixing, Yacker," Eddie murmurs, pecking her lips. "Let's just focus on us for now, okay? We're perfect."

"New Years."

"What?"

"We can kiss at midnight and that'll be how we tell everyone. It's only a little over a week away. I think we can handle keeping the secret for that long, don't you?"

"You're gonna make it so damn hard."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Do you think they'll be able to keep it a secret until New Years? It's the 22nd in the story, so they've got a little over a week. Next chapter, Eddie finally opens up to the house about his problems, Patricia deals with a problem of her own, and Jerome takes Eddie to his first therapy session.**

 **Thanks for being so patient with me. I'm really sorry for disappearing. And thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	37. Chapter 37

**I'm finally caught up. Thanks for your patience guys, things should return to normal starting this week. Trigger warnings - self-harm, suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety.**

* * *

"Hand!" Patricia hisses, yanking her hand out of his. Eddie takes a step away from her and runs a hand through his hair.

"Do I look like we've just been making out?" Eddie asks, trying to smooth his hair down.

"No, do I?" Patricia rakes a hand through her own hair and pulls out her phone to check her reflection.

"You're good."

Patricia forces a smile. "Only a week, right?"

"Right." Eddie presses one last kiss to her cheek, before walking out into the common room with her following close behind.

"Hey guys."

"Hey." Eddie slumps down in the first empty seat he finds, which happens to be the last empty square of couch on the sofa Alfie and Jerome are sitting on. Good. He was dreading having to sit next to Patricia, dreading being forced to breathe in her perfume and smell her lip-gloss and not grab her into a kiss right then and there. If they don't sit near each other, they're not tempted.

"How're you holding up, mate?" Mick asks. "You seem better."

"I feel better," Eddie replies honestly. He does. Everything that's gone on with Patricia has allowed him a chance to forget about all the shit he's been dealing with. He's gotten a chance to focus on the moment he's in, be happy with the status quo, and it's been so refreshing. "You guys probably have tons of questions, so…ask away, I guess. You deserve answers."

Patricia shoots him a look, and he gives a slight shake of his head. He knows this won't bode well later, but he's kept them up in the air for long enough. He's spent so long trying to hide everything, and that's given him even more anxiety. Having to be aware of what he says and does at all times has sent him on a downward spiral with his anxiety. It needs to stop. He needs to get over himself and be okay with being uncomfortable.

"I guess what we all really wanna know is why," Nina says. "We, well, some of us, know little things about you, but I don't think anyone knows the full story."

"My mom and stepdad were abusive," Eddie replies immediately. "I wasn't good at hiding my PTSD. Most of this was because of them. They really fucked me up. The neighbors called CPS on them, which is how I was sent here."

"He has nightmares," Jerome adds. "Patricia and I found that out the night after you guys left for break."

"It's a symptom of PTSD," Eddie tells them. "They're usually flashbacks. I don't sleep very much, that's probably obvious."

"Have you tried medication?" Mara asks. "From what I've read, it really does help."

"I don't want to," Eddie mutters. "I don't need pills to make me happy."

"What about sleeping pills?"

"Overdose." Eddie fingers his bandages and doesn't meet her eyes. "I'd be too afraid I'd take the whole bottle. That's the case with any medication, honestly. I don't trust myself."

"What are you going to do?" Joy asks. "You said medication isn't an option, but you've been in hell for the past couple months with nothing. What choices do you have?"

Eddie shrugs. "Therapy, I guess. I have my first appointment tomorrow and apparently it's supposed to help."

"It will," Jerome says. "I went to therapy for a long time when I was younger. I had way too many feelings about my dad and I wasn't processing them right. I tried to kill myself when I was 14…I don't know how many of you guys know about it, but it happened. Victor, Trudy, and Mr. Sweet set me up with a therapist, and honestly, the guy was amazing."

"Most therapists sound like dicks," Patricia speaks up. "Any of the ones I've been to have been absolute assholes only in it for the money. They learn some stupid techniques in school and think they work on everyone. Mental illness doesn't fit into fucking categories. Everyone is different. There's no one cure for everyone."

"That's what I thought," Jerome replies. "But this guy they found for me…he was amazing. He got into psychiatry because of his kids' problems, not money or reputation. He didn't even mention any of those bullshit techniques to me. We talked about shit like he was my friend and he gave me some amazing coping things that I use now."

"Who was it?"

"His name was…Lucas?" Jerome says. "He wanted me to call him by his first name so it'd seem more like we were friends and less like he was my doctor. And damn, he was fuckin' amazing. I still text him from time to time. I've called him during panic attacks before."

"Wish I could've had your luck," Patricia grumbles. "You get a therapist that's a perfect human being and I get fuckin' 'how does that make you feel, Miss. Williamson?' Fucking bull."

"I think you'll be referred to Lucas, Eddie." Jerome sends a smirk in Patricia's direction but doesn't respond to her comment. "Everyone saw how much I loved him, and I think they decided he'd be the therapist to go to if something like this happened again with another student."

* * *

"What's going on, Patricia?"

"Yeah, why'd you call us all up here?"

Patricia ignores them, continuing to pace back and forth. "I'm such a fucking idiot, what the fuck is my problem? Why can't I be a decent human being for once in my life? Why do I have to ruin everything?"

"Patricia!" Joy grabs her shoulders and forces her to stop pacing. "What the hell is going on? We can help you if you explain things, but you're really not making sense."

"I don't have a Christmas present for Eddie!" Patricia exclaims. "It's a day before Christmas Eve and I have nothing!"

She pulls away from Joy and slumps onto her bed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I'm such an idiot."

"It wasn't intentional, right?"

She sits up and glares at Mara. "Of course not! I just didn't think we'd be good enough friends by Christmas. I didn't think we'd need to get each other anything." She knows that's so far from true. She'll look like a horrible girlfriend if she doesn't get him anything. Eddie probably has something planned for her and she has absolutely nothing to give him in return. At the very least, he deserves a present for putting up with her bullshit for so long.

"Alright, we'll figure this out," Nina says. "What kinds of things does he like?"

"Music," Patricia mutters. "But he already has all his favorite albums. A shirt would be weird. I don't know what else I can do with that."

"I got Fabian a guitar." Nina pulls out her phone and touches a few buttons on the screen. She holds it out to them, showcasing a beautiful acoustic. "I've been saving since the beginning of summer for it."

"That's gorgeous," Joy murmurs. "He's gonna love that. But Fabian's really easy. Anything to do with music, and you're good. And honestly Patty, it's different when you're buying something for your boyfriend. Like, I got Mick a pair of really good running shoes. He can finally start doing exercises and putting weight on his ankle, and he needs some proper shoes to get back into training."

"If it helps, it took me forever to decide on Jerome's gift," Mara speaks up. "He's not a musician or an athlete. He loves pranks, but I wanted to get him something with more meaning. So I got him something really simple, but something he needs. A necklace. And I got the dog tag engraved with a promise. He's so used to people leaving him, his dad, his mom, everyone…this cements the fact that I'm going to stay, no matter what. It's not much compared to Nina and Joy, but it's something he'll treasure, which is all that counts for me."

Patricia makes the mistake of looking to Amber, now that everyone's started talking about what they've gotten their boyfriend. She forgets for a minute that Amber no longer has a boyfriend, reminded only when she sees Amber's face crumple.

"Shit," Patricia mutters. "I'm so sorry, Amber. I forgot."

"I got Alfie tickets to see this really famous magician he loves," Amber whispers. "Only now I guess…I guess that's not gonna happen…"

Nina scoots over to comfort her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and murmuring something into her ear.

That's when the realization hits.

Tickets.

That's perfect.

"You just gave me the perfect idea," Patricia says slowly. "He's gonna love this."

"What? What's your idea?"

Patricia smirks. "You'll find out on Sunday."

* * *

"It's a day before Christmas Eve, what therapist is still working?"

"A therapist who knows that depression tends to get really bad during the holidays." Jerome wraps an arm around his shoulder and squeezes. "Come on, lighten up. At least you know he'll be good."

"Or you could just be the ass trying to manipulate me into going."

"You're fuckin' stubborn," Jerome mutters. "Wouldn't be surprised if I had to be. But I'm not. I promise you I'm not. He's amazing. You'll see."

The taxi pulls up to a large house, and that's when Eddie realizes they're in a housing development. "Are you sure we have the right place?"

"Yeah," Jerome replies. "He works out of his house. His office is in the basement. He tried opening a practice but it got to be too much, so he works from home."

They get out of the car and walk up to the porch. Jerome rings the doorbell and then steps back. "He's not your traditional therapist, trust me. Give him a chance."

Eddie shrugs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks around. He's not sure how to feel about this. He's been trying to shove his feelings away because the more he feels the higher his anxiety builds. He's being forced into therapy, and if he lets his anxiety take control this will become even more of a hell than it already is. He's trying to make the experience as painless as possible, although it seems unlikely. Therapy means letting the skeletons out of his closet, and he isn't sure he's ready to do that yet.

The door swings open, and Eddie's alarmed to see someone who looks around their age standing in front of them. He's tall and thin with long black hair shoved into a beanie, wearing a Pierce the Veil shirt and black skinny jeans. Eddie likes him already.

"Hey Alex," Jerome says. "Your dad tell you about his appointments for day?"

The guy, Alex, nods. He steps onto the porch with them and pulls Jerome into a hug. "How've you been?"

"Kinda shit," Jerome replies. "You?"

"It's winter break," Alex says. "Had time to breathe. Things aren't as bad."

"Alex, is that my 3:00- looks like it is." An older man appears in the doorway, and that's when Eddie understands exactly what Jerome meant. Alex bears a striking resemblance to Lucas, most definitely his son. He also has on a beanie, and he's wearing a red and black flannel over a Suicide Silence shirt and black skinny jeans. Ink covers both his arms, and stretches past the collar of his shirt onto his neck.

"Eddie, right?" Lucas asks. He holds out a hand. "Nice to meet you. This is my son, Alex." He rests a hand on Alex's back and joins them all on the porch. It's starting to get crowded. This isn't helping his anxiety at all.

"Hey, what about me?"

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Come here, kid." He pulls Jerome into a tight hug. "How have things been? I don't have any appointments after Eddie. If you need to talk about anything, you've got me."

Jerome nods as they pull away. "Might take you up on that. But Eddie's important. A lot of my shit comes from his suicide attempt. Definitely shook things up."

Eddie watches the exchange warily. The hug Lucas gave Jerome was tight. Fatherly, almost. Jerome looks completely uninhibited. The way he's talking to Lucas is so personal, so intimate…it's obvious how much he trusts him. He hopes that one day he'll be able to trust Lucas the way Jerome does.

"We'll figure it out," Lucas promises. He glances at Eddie. "You ready? Follow me."

Eddie starts to step into the house, but turns back to Jerome not even two steps in. "You can go, y'know, if you want. You don't have to stay. I'll be okay."

"Cut the bullshit, you know I'm staying. I'll hang with Alex while you two have your session," Jerome says. "We've got a lot to catch up on."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Eddie's therapist and his family are OC's, but they're from an original story I've been working on for over a year now. They're very special to me, so I hope you guys will like them. It's mainly going to be Lucas that you'll be seeing, but Alex will make some appearances, along with his sisters and mom. I hope you guys are okay with that.**

 **Next chapter, Eddie's therapy session doesn't go as planned, Jerome tries to make things better for Alfie, which leads to a conversation with Amber that also...doesn't go too well. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	38. Chapter 38

**Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, depression, and racism.**

* * *

Eddie sits down in the couch in front of Lucas' desk and finds himself feeling suddenly so much more anxious than he was before. His heart is pounding and his mind is racing.

"You prefer Eddie, right? Jerome told me if I called you Edison you'd have my head." Lucas chuckles as he sits down behind the desk.

"Y-Yeah," he stutters. He drops his head to stare down at his lap and squeezes his eyes shut. He's trying so hard not to have a panic attack. He's trying to breathe, trying to remember how to force air in and out of his lungs so he doesn't make it obvious that he's so fucking uncomfortable. He's trying to tell himself this really isn't a big deal but he knows it is. He's trying to force himself to calm down but it's so much harder than it looks.

"Hey, breathe." A hand begins to rub his back and he does everything in his power not to flinch. "You're okay. Everything's okay. Anxiety's a bitch, I know, but that's what I'm here to help you with."

"I'm okay," Eddie gasps. He inches away from Lucas and lifts his head up. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Lucas replies. "You can't control that." He straightens and makes his way back over to his desk.

"I didn't think I'd be this nervous," Eddie admits. "I told myself that it wasn't a big deal."

"And it wasn't, until I sat down in front of you and your mind started going on overdrive, right?"

"Yeah." Eddie's not sure how he feels about this. Lucas is either all-knowing and too smart, or he actually has anxiety and knows the struggle. From how calm he seems, Eddie's placed his bets on the former. It's frustrating. He's already imagining being cut off and having diagnoses thrown at him like his last therapist. It's the worst when they know too much. They don't even let you get a word in before they make some bullshit claim and think they've "cured" you.

"Let's try something," Lucas says. "You tell me something about you, anything, from your favorite color to something you absolutely hate, and I'll match it. A personal detail for a personal detail. You'll find out some things about me, and hopefully that'll help you trust me."

Eddie rolls his eyes. Trust him? Bullshit. Some therapist he is. How can he expect trust that easily? Doesn't he have any idea how hard that is? "Trust you? Really? How long have you been abused? How many times have you tried to kill yourself?"

"Ten. And the abuse…I guess it really started when I started school, when I was five, so around thirteen years."

Eddie freezes. He stares at Lucas in shock, watching as he flips his right wrist over and holds it out. His forearm is splattered with ink, but Eddie can see a long gash that starts just above his wrist and goes all the way to the crook of his elbow. When he looks closely, he can see the risen scars lining Lucas' entire forearm. They're not prominent because of the tattoos, but they're risen and he's looking closely, so he can see them.

"I'm sorry, I, um, I didn't know, I-"

"Relax," Lucas replies. "You didn't know. It's okay. I'm way too familiar with trust issues. I still have some. You pale in comparison to some things people have said to me, don't worry. Are you still up for trying this out?"

Eddie nods jerkily. He was worried he'd offended Lucas, but he doesn't seem bothered at all. He doesn't seem to care that Eddie made such a bitchy comment when he had no information. He doesn't care that Eddie judged him prematurely.

He's used to being hit for things like this. He's used to doing something wrong and then getting a slap in the face or a punch in the mouth. He's used to being slammed against walls and numb to the pain it brings. He's used to being punished for running his mouth so he doesn't understand why it's different now.

"I'll go first," Lucas says. "Because of that abuse, I have PTSD too."

"They diagnosed me with depression the first time I tried to kill myself," Eddie mumbles. His voice is shaking. He's not sure what he's saying anymore. He can't think straight. He's trying so hard to keep from crying, but it isn't working out too well. His eyes are burning with tears and his vision is blurry.

"Hey, you okay?" The couch sinks as more weight is added and a hand rests on his back. "Breathe. You're fine."

"I'm so sorry," Eddie hiccups, burying his head in his hands. His skin is dampening with hot tears and his heart is pounding.

"For what, kid?" Lucas sounds genuinely confused and he doesn't know why. He should be angry. He should've hit him by now. Why hasn't he?

"I was disrespectful," Eddie chokes out. "You can hit me. I can take it, it's okay. I won't tell."

The hand on his back is snatched away. Eddie braces himself, ready for the impact, but it never comes. Tears pour faster down his cheeks in anticipation. This hasn't happened in months. He's not ready for how much it's going to hurt.

"Eddie, listen to me." Lucas slides onto the floor and stands on his knees, grabbing Eddie's hands. "I am _never_ going to hit you, okay? No one is. Not even if you've been disrespectful, which in this case, you haven't. I know you're scared because this is all you've ever known, but that's not a punishment. A punishment is taking your phone or laptop, not giving you a black eye or a split lip. That was abuse, not a punishment. I need you to understand that, okay?"

Eddie swallows painfully and shakes his head. "My stepfather would've never let me talk to him like that."

"You're scared. You don't trust me yet. People have betrayed you all your life; I don't blame you. I used to be the same way, believe it or not. It's taken me years to get over what my parents did to me. You've been free from yours for less than six months. It's going to take time. Hopefully you and I can work on some things that'll make your life a little easier, it's gonna take time."

* * *

"You really should eat something. Dinner was an hour ago…"

Jerome sighs, sitting down on the edge of Alfie's bed. "You can't do this to yourself. You're not eating, you're not sleeping…come on, Al. You gotta take care of yourself. I know you're hurting, but you can't let yourself fall apart like this."

"I don't care about me," comes Alfie's emotionless response. He's on his side, facing away from Jerome, the blanket pulled all the way over his head. Jerome rolls his eyes and forcefully turns Alfie onto his back.

"You need to get up, _shower_ , because you smell like shit, and eat something. I'm not gonna take no for an answer."

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care. I'm not gonna let you do this to yourself."

"Why don't you just leave me here to rot?" Alfie growls. "I want to be alone. I don't need your help. I don't need you."

Jerome smiles sadly at him. "You didn't leave my side after I got the first letter from my dad. I was a mess and you stayed. So you can curse me to hell and back if you want, but I'm not leaving just because things are shit right now."

Alfie sighs. "I don't know how to get over this. I don't know how to be okay. I want to fix things with her but I don't know where to start."

"You need to fix yourself before you even think about doing that," Jerome points out. "There's no use getting back with her if your head's still a mess."

"I don't know how."

"Start by reminding yourself that your skin color isn't the problem."

"It's not that fuckin' easy," Alfie mutters. "You're white, Jerome. You don't get it."

Jerome knows that. He's known it since the beginning, since Alfie first told him about being bullied due to the color of his skin and he couldn't comprehend it. Realistically, they were 9 years old, and 9 year olds don't comprehend much as it is, but it still baffled him that people chose their friends based on melanin. Racism has evolved over the years in ebbs and flows. There'd be years where things weren't so bad and years where they were. There'd be years where Alfie wouldn't want to get out of bed in fear of being targeted and years where the color of his skin didn't even matter.

"I know I don't," Jerome replies. "I'm not going to pretend I do. But I want to help. What can I do?"

It's something he's struggled with for years. Not knowing what to do. He's never known how to help. Alfie's frustration and anger are something that a few choice words of comfort won't help. Jerome can't understand what he's going to. Support isn't enough, clearly. He's never going to know what it feels like, and he doesn't know how to help. He knows one of the things Alfie struggles with the most is the loneliness, feeling like he's isolated. He can't help with that.

He reaches out and puts a hand on Alfie's back. "I can't understand, I know that. How can I make this easier? Anything. Just say the word."

"Talk to Amber. Please."

* * *

"Hey, can we talk?"

Amber looks up from her phone and forces a smile. She glances back down at the screen and forces back a sob. The picture is from a few weeks ago, when she and Alfie were on a date in the park. He was trying to be romantic, so he picked her up and swung her around, just in time for a passerby to snap a quick shot. It hurts to think about how happy they were then, compared to where they are now. She didn't for a second think she'd be here back then. She thought they were forever. If she's learned anything in these past few days, it's that forever is finite.

Jerome sits down on the edge of the bed. She watches him take in the box of tissues and the numerous crumpled ones all over the mattress. "You know, he's a mess too. This wasn't easy for him."

Amber shrugs. "He didn't take long to decide. We were saying multiple I love yous a day, then he breaks up with me two days later. He didn't need long to think about what we had for almost two years."

"If you think it only took him two days to make that decision, you've got another thing coming," Jerome mutters. "It's been at the back of his mind since you told him about your dad, Amber. And trust me, it wasn't easy. He's not eating. He doesn't sleep. He should be working on not wanting to kill himself but instead he's hating himself for what he did to you."

"He broke up with me," Amber says. Her voice breaks in the middle of the sentence and she swallows hard. "I didn't do this to him."

"You didn't do _anything_ , Amber!" Jerome snaps.

"What do you mean?"

Jerome sighs. "You didn't defend him. You didn't stand up for him. You just let your dad say all that shit. You let him sit there and listen to your dad tell him his parents aren't good for anything but being janitors. That his dad would be a better lawyer if he weren't black. That he'd never be able to live in a nice house or have the nice things you have. You may not be racist, but letting your dad say all that is as good as siding with him."

Amber stares at him, tears building in her eyes. How dare he? She's not racist. She doesn't agree with her dad. He has no idea what the hell he's talking about. He doesn't know how much trouble she'd get in for standing up to her dad. He'd _destroy_ her if she went against him. With her mother gone and the rest of the family alienated, her dad is all Amber has. "Don't you understand how much I _want_ to do that? You don't get it, Jerome! I can't!"

"Can't or won't?" He's not getting angry. If he's pissed, he's not showing it. That infuriates her even more. He's being completely calm and that's not fair. He has no idea how bad the situation really is. He's just a cocky asshole who thinks she's a bitch without knowing the facts.

" _Can't_ ," Amber emphasizes. "The last person who went against him was my mum, and he divorced her for it!"

"I thought she walked out on him?"

"She did," Amber replies. "After he served her with the papers. She disagreed with some decision he made and he told her that she should get out if she didn't like it, so she did. And if I stand up to him, he'll disown me and empty out my trust fund and I'll have nothing."

"So it's money then," Jerome says. "You care more about _money_ than your own boyfriend. I thought you changed. I thought being with Alfie showed you that there's more to life than money."

"You really think I'm that shallow? If my father disowns me, I'll have _no one_! He's the only one I have left! He's shut out everyone else in the family; if my father disowns me I'll be an _orphan_ , Jerome. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

She doesn't realize what she's said until it's out there. She watches the emotion disappear from Jerome's face. He seems to crumble into himself, biting his lip and dropping his head.

"Jerome, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

He rises to his feet and shakes his head. "Save it. Seems like it's a decision between Alfie and your dad, and it's clear who you're picking."

* * *

 **Thoughts? What do you think of Lucas? More of his backstory is going to come out in future therapy sessions; he's nothing like the typical therapists Eddie's thinking about. I hope that'll help you guys to like him as well. As for Amber and Alfie...Alfie's gonna wallow some more. He's not going to get over something like this very easily. Amber's perspective on things is coming, I promise. She will have a change of heart, but it's going to take time.**

 **Next chapter is Christmas Eve, where Patricia reflects on last year and how shitty things are, leading to a...not so good decision, and Fabian finally talks to Eddie. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Trigger warnings - depression, suicide, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, panic attacks, and self-harm.**

* * *

She's always hated Christmas.

It's the time of joy and peace and happiness and goodwill and all that is such fucking bullshit.

Her memories of Christmas aren't getting to sit on Santa's lap, rejoicing with family, baking Christmas cookies, sitting around the fire and watching Christmas movies, none of that. When she thinks of Christmas, she thinks of cutting and repressing emotions and trying to hard to act okay with everyone around her scrutinizing her appearance and inventing things to criticize.

Every Christmas she's reminded of how much better Piper is. She's reminded that Piper is everything she isn't. Piper is funny and adorable and pretty with the dreamy boyfriend and the perfect grades that she earns at this fancy ass music boarding school. And Patricia is sarcastic and bitchy and ugly with a boyfriend she doesn't deserve and shitty grades because she was focused more on living than calculating molar mass and finding the derivative of x. It's clear that Piper is better, and she knows it, but her family makes it their number one goal to remind her of that every chance they get.

Last year was particularly awful. Dealing with the trauma from an abusive relationship combined with being ripped apart by her relatives ended in a lot of blood. She remembers sneaking off to the bathroom while everyone was opening presents and wishing that her present were death. She remembers pressing a little bit deeper and waiting a little bit longer to stop the bleeding, hoping she'd pass out from blood loss and they wouldn't care enough to find her.

Christmas will always remind her of how she's never been good enough. How nothing she does will ever compare to Piper. How the one thing that was supposed to be good in her life turned into abuse and pain and suffering. How she's just not destined to be happy, no matter what.

Eddie makes that go away. He makes her feel like there's light at the end of the tunnel. But as amazing as he is, nothing will change the fact that his suicide attempt was unimaginably triggering and part of her wished it was her body on the floor instead of his.

Seeing the blood and the empty pill bottle and the razor was so fucking triggering, and now that everything's settled down and Eddie's home, she's feeling those effects. It's bringing her back to the two times she tried. She knows that's a dangerous road to go down. She knows that only bad things can come out of being tormented with flashbacks of her body in the same position as Eddie's.

The first time was stupid. She slit her wrist, right down the middle, opened up her entire forearm. There was so much blood. But now, looking back on it, it was dumb. She wouldn't have died that way. That's the hardest way to go. The human body instinctually tries to save itself. Blood loss takes too long. You're usually found before it's too late.

The second time, she was smarter. Pills. Pills on the roof of Anubis house, that is. She planned on taking the pills and then jumping as insurance, but ended up passing out on the roof before she could. That's why they found her. Part of her is still pissed at herself for not having the strength to wait until after she jumped, to pass out. She was weak. If she'd been stronger, maybe she would've been able to go through with it.

"Patricia love, everyone's sitting around the fire and we're going to watch A Christmas Story." She's startled out of her thoughts by the sound of Trudy's voice. She's standing in the doorway, dressed in a pair of mint green pajamas with flowers all over them. "It'd be really lovely if you could join us, dearie. It's so nice, having you all here for Christmas."

Patricia forces a smile. The connection she's developed with Trudy is special. After both suicide attempts, Trudy was the person she opened up to. She wasn't comfortable with Victor or Mr. Sweet, and Trudy's doting, motherly nature was inviting and enveloping, like a warm blanket.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Patricia replies. "I'm just gonna change."

"And remember your medication, love," Trudy says. "I'm trusting you by letting you have it in your room. You are taking it, yes?"

Patricia freezes. She glances back over to her nightstand, at the pill bottle sitting next to her table lamp. She glances at the half-full bottle of pills, the capsules of happiness that keep her from going off the deep end a third time. Taking them has become automatic. She doesn't think about it; it's as integrated into her routine as brushing her teeth is.

"I'm taking it," Patricia confirms. "You don't have to worry about me, Trudy. I'm doing a lot better, promise."

Trudy smiles and crosses the room to bring her into a tight hug. She steps back and holds her at arms length, the smile not leaving her face. "Oh I know, lovey. You're doing so much better and I'm so proud of you." She sends Patricia a wink. "You and Eddie are beautiful, sweetie."

Patricia stares at her. "Me and…we…how'd you know?"

"Mother's instinct," Trudy replies, grinning at her. "Housemother's instinct, maybe. Something was different, after you went to see him for the first time. Your friends may not have caught on, but you've seemed so much happier lately, my dear. Especially around him. It's beautiful."

"Please don't tell," Patricia begs, grabbing Trudy's hands in both of hers. "We promised to wait until New Year's…please…"

"I would never," Trudy swears. "This is your news to share, lovey. Yours and Eddie's. Whenever you decide to share it is up to you."

Patricia nods, watching as Trudy flashes her another smile and slips out of the room. She turns back to her nightstand and takes a step forward. The bottle of Lexapro is staring back at her, taunting her. It's ruthless, reminding her of all her inadequacies, staring her down every time she does something she knows isn't right. It's her conscience in a bottle, weighing her down with every step she takes.

 _You're taking it? Really? It's not nice to lie, Patricia._

"Shut up," she mutters. She grabs the bottle and unscrews the cap, looking down at the small, white pills.

The thought of taking them all at once is crossing her mind again.

She shakes her head, tries to push the thought away, tries to ignore the suicidal ideation clinging to her like a limpet. It's like a bear waiting to strike, unexpected and unpredictable. Not taking her meds makes everything so much worse, and the sickest thing about it is the fact that she enjoys it.

She enjoys not taking her medication, enjoys knowing that she's in control. Anti-depressants take away too much. She doesn't like who she is when she's on them. She doesn't like the person she turns into.

Maybe she's really fucked in the head, or maybe she's just a little bit too addicted to her depression.

Either way, she screws the lid back on the bottle, sets it on her nightstand and turns away. Away from the pills, away from the comfort, away from anything that's going to make any of this go away, because that is the last thing she wants anymore.

* * *

"Hey, um…can we talk?"

Eddie pulls his other earbud out and flips his songbook closed, then pulls his knees up to his chest and motions Fabian to sit on the edge of the mattress. He leans over to put his songbook on his nightstand and unplugs his earbuds from his phone, winding them around his neck and slipping his phone into his pocket. "What's up?"

Fabian isn't looking at him. He's concentrating on his shoes, staring at the laces with such focus that Eddie would've thought he was memorizing them. While his gaze is locked on his feet, his hands are moving, fingers tangling with each other continuously, making his nerves that much more obvious. If that wasn't enough, Eddie can see him shaking, can see the redness on his cheeks and the dried tear tracks covering his face.

He knows what this conversation is about.

"I'm so sorry," Fabian chokes out. His voice catches in his throat and he lets out a few weak coughs, one hand flying to his chest. Eddie hears his shaky attempt to inhale and exhale a deep breath and sighs.

"It's okay," Eddie replies, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Fabian flinches violently at the contact and Eddie pulls back immediately. "Hey, Fabian, seriously. It's all good. I forgive you. You don't have to do this."

"I do!" Fabian insists, finally turning to look at him. His face is red and tear streaked and his eyes are bloodshot. "I said horrible things to you! I was such a fucking asshole. I called you _selfish_ , Eddie, god I just…" He trails off, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands.

"Hey," Eddie says, moving one hand to Fabian's back. He flinches again, but Eddie keeps his hand there, beginning to trace small circles. "Listen to me. It's okay, I promise. I know you didn't mean any of it. You were just angry. I get it."

"I shouldn't have said it to begin with!" Fabian shoots back. "You didn't deserve that. _I_ was the selfish one, not you. All I cared about was answers to stupid questions that didn't even matter. I should've been smart enough to know, I should've known it wasn't your fault, I should've _thought_ -"

"Fabian!" Eddie exclaims. "Breathe. It's okay. I'm not mad at you, I promise. I know you didn't mean any of it. I know you were upset. I know what I did really hurt you. _I'm_ sorry, for all of that. But trust me, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's all good."

"I'm so sorry," Fabian repeats.

"Shut up," Eddie mutters. He scoots forward, turns so he's sitting next to Fabian, and wraps an arm around his shoulders. The side hug is tight and while Fabian resists at first, he eventually relaxes into Eddie's side and rests his head on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie smiles victoriously and tightens his grip. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I promise I'm not. You didn't hurt me. But I hurt you, so I'm sorry for that."

"I just wanted you to come to me," Fabian whispers. "I didn't realize it was that bad…"

"I didn't want to go to anyone," Eddie tells him. "I just wanted to die. I didn't care about anything else. It sucks and it's such a shitty and scary mindset to have, but I didn't care. I didn't want to burden anyone. I just wanted to rid the world of my shitty existence so I wouldn't have to feel anymore."

Fabian chokes out a sob, and Eddie sighs again. That was probably too much. He forgets sometimes that Fabian doesn't have any mental illnesses and therefore doesn't realize the facets of depression. This is a conversation much better had with Patricia or Jerome. He forgets sometimes that he can't be the unapologetic, uncensored version of himself constantly. There's a time and a place for it but sometimes he forgets to flip the switch and sharpen his acting skills.

"Just keep breathing," Eddie murmurs. "It's all gonna be okay, I promise."

He tightens his grip around Fabian's shoulders, brings him in close, and tries not to think about the darkness, the murky cloud with fuzzy edges that is once again slowly starting to eclipse him and turn everything to shit. He tries to forget that he can literally _feel_ himself drifting into the shadows, right back into the haze that is depression. He holds Fabian a little tighter and tries to imagine that same grip on himself, tries to imagine holding himself together in that same way, and when he can't, he bites his lip and forces himself to keep the tears back until he's alone with his self-hatred once more.

* * *

 **Thoughts? This was a bit shorter, I'm sorry. I had to cut it where I did, because of how long the next scene is. Next chapter is Christmas, and well...it doesn't go as well as previous ones have, for Jerome and Alfie. Eddie, on the other hand, gives a very special present and receives one of equal caliber. The Peddie gift exchange is adorable, I'm sure you guys will love it. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	40. Chapter 40

**Over 300 reviews in 39 chapters. I can't thank you all enough. Your words keep mine running.**

 **Trigger warnings - depression, abuse, and mentions of suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

It doesn't feel like Christmas.

In the past few years, Christmas has brought numerous traditions with it.

Because he always stays at Anubis House over break, Alfie, a few years ago, decided to stay with him so he wouldn't be alone on Christmas. His parents join them at Anubis House on Christmas Day, then bring Alfie home with them for the rest of break. It's a system that has worked for the last five years quite beautifully.

Jerome loves Alfie's parents. They're warm and welcoming, completely atypical judging by their appearances and professions. His father is a lawyer and his mother is a college professor at Oxford University, both highly prestigious, no nonsense kind of jobs. They save the nonsense for their son. They're bright and bubbly and they joke around and treat him like their own and that's why Jerome looks forward to Christmas.

When he's surrounded by Alfie's family he feels like he belongs. He feels like he has a family of his own, a traditional family with loving parents and the best brother in the world. His friends are his family but he's always wanted to feel like he has the type of family everyone else does, the type of family Alfie has. Every Christmas, that dream is made into a reality and it never ceases to bring tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat because for one day out of the year he feels like he _fits_ somewhere and that validation is indescribable.

This year, things are different.

Usually, every Christmas morning, Alfie wakes him up at some ungodly hour and they run downstairs to wait for his parents so they can open presents, nursing mugs of hot chocolate and watching Christmas movies. Jerome's gotten so used to Alfie's excitement at 5 am that he's started waking up that early on his own, but he still waits for Alfie to jump on his bed and shake him out of "sleep", for tradition's sake. It's something special that they both have and he doesn't want it to stop.

This year, everything is different.

When Jerome wakes, he waits for Alfie to jump on his bed and "wake" him in the animated way he usually does, but it never comes. Five minutes go by, then ten, and when it reaches the fifteen minute mark, Jerome lifts the covers off his face and turns his head to the other side of the room.

Alfie is still sleeping, from the looks of it. The telltale lump under his own covers is curled into a ball. Mick's bed is empty, and Jerome is alarmed until he remembers Mick saying he was spending the night in Joy's room. He remembers Mara telling him it was okay that they slept separately that night, that all of them being home wasn't an excuse to break the traditions they'd had for years prior.

He waits another fifteen minutes, and just as the clock on his nightstand flips to 5:30, he decides enough is enough. He pushes the covers away and gets out of his bed and onto Alfie's. Alfie doesn't move, even when Jerome accidentally kicks him in the back surely hard enough to hurt.

"Alfie? Al, hey, you okay?" He shakes his shoulder, but Alfie still doesn't budge. "Alfie!"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Alfie groans, shoving weakly at his arm and turning over. "M'trying to sleep."

"It's Christmas," Jerome reminds him softly. "You didn't wake me up. I was worried."

"Fuck Christmas," Alfie growls. "I'm sleeping."

"Alfie…"

"Just leave me alone, Jerome."

Jerome forces himself to swallow against the lump in his throat as he blinks back tears.

This isn't the Alfie he's known. In all the years they've known each other, Alfie's never been this bitter and angry, especially not on Christmas. Jerome supposes Alfie has reason to be like this, but it's alarming and unsettling nonetheless. As selfish as it sounds, he wants his best friend back.

He wants the tricks and the jokes and the pranks back. He wants the comic relief, the constant laughter, the smiles…he wants his fun-loving, daredevil best friend back. It's selfish because he knows Alfie's going through hell right now, and he wouldn't dare voice it, but Jerome really just wants the old Alfie back.

This was the worst possible time for everything to go to shit. Jerome is barely able to handle his own problems let alone take on all of Alfie's and still be able to stand under the weight. He can't do it all. Everything with his dad combined with everything with Amber's is combining catastrophically and he feels like he can't breathe under the weight of it all.

He could go to Mara or Eddie or Patricia to talk about things, but he doesn't want to. He wants Alfie. He wants Alfie's arm around his shoulders and his breath of understanding as he clips off any verbal response and instead just holds Jerome close. He wants Alfie because he _knows_ , because he's known for so many years that they've got it down to a science, how to handle situations like these.

Jerome is used to falling apart and having Alfie there to pick up the pieces. They've never been broken together. It's always been one of them, so the other is strong enough for them both, strong enough to pull them both over the mountain until things are better. This is new and this is foreign and Jerome wishes it weren't this way, but it is.

He needs to figure out how to help both himself and Alfie and it's overwhelming. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know what to do or where to start or if what he's doing could possibly be making everything worse and that kills him more than not doing anything.

It's Christmas and here he is, sitting on the edge of Alfie's bed and biting his lip hard enough to taste copper in hope that it'll stop the tears.

He can feel himself getting bad again.

* * *

For someone who's never known a traditional Christmas before, Christmas at Anubis House is a damn good first one.

Trudy's playing mother as she always does, bringing out mugs of hot chocolate and an arsenal of Christmas movies as the ten of them gather in the common room, donning pajamas and wide smiles as they stare at the pile of gifts underneath the tree. Victor has even emerged from his cave, and Eddie's pretty sure he saw a smile grace his face at some point. Christmas is truly magical if it has the power to make _Victor_ smile.

"Alright dearies, I think we're finally ready for presents!" Trudy hands one last mug to Amber and takes a seat next to her. "Who wants to be Santa?"

"What?" Eddie looks at her in confusion, feeling less shitty about it when he's joined by numerous more perplexed stares. For most of them, this is their first Christmas at Anubis. He's not the only one.

Jerome smiles sheepishly. "It's a little thing Alfie and I do. We rotate, every year, one of us is "Santa" and hands out all the gifts." A pink tinge is spreading over his cheeks, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Why should he be ashamed? That's an amazing tradition to have. Who cares if it's cheesy or could be considered stupid? It's special to him and that's all that should matter. Those are the kinds of traditions that you remember, the thinks that stay with you. The fact that he has something like that is beautiful. He deserves to be proud of it.

"That's adorable." Mara voices the words on all their minds and leans in to kiss Jerome's cheek. "Why don't you be Santa, keep the tradition going?"

"Alfie?" Jerome looks across the room, to where Alfie's curled into himself on an armchair. He's not acknowledging anything, staring down at his lap with his arms crossed over his chest. Jerome's voice fades as he begins to ask if Alfie wants to take the role. He deflates like a balloon, as Alfie continues to ignore him.

"You do it," Alfie mutters. "Let's just get this over with so I can go back to bed."

Jerome wilts even more, and Eddie's heart throbs. He wants to be mad at Alfie but he can't. He knows he's going through literal hell right now, with his feelings over the breakup and the shit he's gotten from Amber's father, but he shouldn't be taking it out on Jerome. As far as Eddie knows, all Jerome has done is try to help and support Alfie. Eddie sees both sides of the story and it makes choosing a side so much harder. He can't pick one of them over the other. He just can't.

"C'mon Jerry, first gift, let's go!" He says, trying to ease the awkwardness and tension in the room. It's Christmas. He knows, even though he's never had a real Christmas, that fighting today is shitty. It's a holiday of family and he finally has one. He wants to celebrate. He wants his life to be normal for once.

Jerome jerks wildly and nods, reaching into the pile. He pulls out a medium-sized box and reads the tag. "Nina, for you, from Fabian."

She smiles and accepts the gift, shooting Fabian a shy smile. When she unwraps the box and opens it, her eyes go wide and one hand flies up to cover her mouth. She lifts a leather bound journal and matching calligraphy pen out of the box and looks from them to Fabian in wonder.

"There's more." The smile on his fact is massive. "Keep going."

Nina pulls out a medium-sized jewelry box and stares at it. "Fabian, you-"

"Just open it!" Fabian insists.

The necklace is beautiful, from what Eddie sees of it. Nina opens the box and closes it a minute later, grabbing Fabian in a kiss. All he saw was a flash of blue before the box snapped shut. He rolls his eyes and turns to Patricia.

Instinctively, he lifts his arm to wrap around her shoulders, but freezes when he sees her alarmed look and the violent shake of her head.

They're not alone.

Shit.

He tries to pass it off as fixing his hair, although it definitely isn't very convincing. Joy is looking at him weirdly, staring from him to Patricia. He can almost see the wheels turning in her head. He hopes he didn't just fuck everything up.

Lucky for him, time passes quickly as the rest of the gifts are handed out. Jerome does a good job with balancing reactions to gifts with moving on to the next gift, a much needed strategy due to how emotional Joy and Mara get with their gifts. Jerome's own gift, a simple necklace with dog tags, has him tearing up and pulling Mara close. It warms Eddie's heart to watch his inability to compose himself afterward. He goes through the rest of the gift giving with red and perpetually teary eyes, alternating between wrapping his arms around Mara's waist and neck while kissing her head.

There are only two gifts left under the tree and Eddie's heart starts to race as he realizes that they're his and Patricia's gifts to each other.

It was hard, figuring out what to get her. He couldn't get something too boyfriend-esque, but he still wanted it to be meaningful. He wanted to get her something she'd remember him for, something she'd love and treasure and use. He wanted his gift to be as special as she made him feel.

"Who wants to go first?" Jerome asks, shooting them a smirk.

"I'll go," Eddie volunteers. If anything, he wants his pounding heart and racing mind to stop. Going first gets it over with.

All eyes are on them as Jerome hands Patricia a large bag. She glances at him and then at the bag. "What the hell did you do, Slimeball?"

"Open it."

His heart pounds faster as she pulls all the tissue paper out of the bag and gets a peek at the contents. She freezes. "What the actual _fuck_?"

He bites his lip and watches as she pulls the record player out of the bag. "I wanted it to be something you'd use. We both love music, so I just thought-"

"Holy fucking _shit_ , Eddie…" Patricia looks up at him in wonder. He's known her long enough to tell that she's trying to disguise her joy with disbelief, but it isn't working. It's obvious how happy she is, as she turns the box around in her hands. "This must've cost a fuckin' fortune…why would you get me something so expensive?"

"I didn't pay for it," he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "It was my dad's. He had it lying around his office and wasn't using it, so I figured…every album is better on vinyl. Especially the two I got you."

Patricia rifles through the bag and pulls out two vinyl records, The Black Parade, by My Chemical Romance, and Creatures, by Motionless in White. She looks from the records to the record player and back to Eddie. He can see tears in her eyes and it makes the urge to kiss her so much more overwhelming. He knows he needs to wait but it's so fucking hard.

"Thank you, Weasel," she says softly, wrapping her arm around his shoulders in what's supposed to be a friendly hug. He tries not to let it linger, tries to pull away at what's an acceptable amount of time for a hug like this, and it is physically painful to separate himself from her.

 _One more week_ , he tells himself, teeth going back to worrying his lip.

"The last gift," Jerome announces. "But I'm not sure an envelope really counts. Did you write him a list of insults or something?"

"Dick," Patricia mutters, snatching the envelope out of his hands and handing it to Eddie. Her face morphs into something of concern mixed with worry as he takes it from her. He can tell that the same anxiety he felt when she was opening his gift is now affecting her.

He tears the envelope open and pulls out two slips of paper. They're thicker than regular pieces of paper, and he understands why as soon as he reads them.

"You got me Pierce the Veil tickets?" He shouts, staring at the words stamped across the top of each ticket.

 _Pierce the Veil, Misadventures Tour 2016 – Floor_

"Floor seats," Patricia adds, grinning at him. "I guess having a musical genius for a sister has its perks. She knows someone on their crew and got us floor tickets and backstage passes."

It's taking every ounce of strength and resolve for him not to grab her in for a kiss. He wants to, more than anything. This is legendary. Pierce the Veil has been his favorite band for as long as he can remember. Their music got him through some of the roughest parts of his stepfather's abuse. They've been the only constant in his life, the only thing that's stayed unmarred when everything else was shit.

And now he's going to meet them.

Best. Christmas. Ever.

* * *

 **Thoughts? What'd you think of the Peddie gift exchange? I spent a while trying to come up with presents, and in the end, this seemed like the best way to go. I hope you all enjoyed it.**

 **Next chapter, Alfie gets a visit from a surprising individual who he learns understands him better than Jerome ever could, and with that comes the true horrors of his relationship with Amber. Oh, and Patricia's "fine" act weakens and things may just...fall apart. ;) The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Trigger warnings - racism, depression, and suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

"Alfie? Can I talk to you?"

Mara steps through the doorway of Alfie, Mick, and Jerome's room and stands at the foot of Alfie's bed, craning her neck to see if he's buried under all his covers. She sees his foot poking through one of the blankets and shakes her head.

After everyone had opened gifts, he came straight back here to…what, go back to bed? This isn't the Alfie she knows. The Alfie she's come to know over the past few years has always loved Christmas so unashamedly, always tried to get everyone to believe in the magic, always advocated so fiercely for the power of the holiday and its ability to turn even the shittiest situation beautiful.

She knows now that Christmas magic can't save everyone.

"Jerome sent you, didn't he?" Alfie pushes his covers back and lifts his head to look at her. His eyes are red and bloodshot and there are tear tracks staining his cheeks. "I don't need to talk about it. I'm fine."

"If you were fine you'd be out there, watching Christmas movies and trying to force me and Jerome under the mistletoe," Mara says sadly. She sits on the edge of the bed and forces a smile. "You're not fine, Alfie. All of us know it. And it _sucks_ that you're not fine because Christmas in this house isn't the same without you."

"So I'm not allowed to have a shitty day? I just broke up with my girlfriend, Mara. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone. I just wanna be alone, is that really too much to ask?"

"No," Mara replies. "But I wanted to talk to you so I could tell you that I understand, Alfie."

She folds her hands on her lap and swallows against the lump in her throat, knowing she has to launch into the full story and hoping she's ready for it. She doesn't want to break down in the middle. She's pretty sure she's past everything, over it to the point that she can talk about it without wanting to burst into tears.

"Don't give me a lecture on racism," Alfie mutters. "I don't wanna hear it."

"I know you don't," Mara replies. "But you and I are the only people of color in Anubis House other than Trudy, and I know you'd rather have this conversation with me over her."

"You're just gonna tell me I have to look past my skin color and not care what her dad thinks, but it's not that fuckin' easy."

"It's not," Mara agrees. "That's what a white person would tell you. And lucky for you, I'm not. I'm going to tell you that what you're feeling is okay. That Amber's dad is awful, and you have every right to feel this bad about yourself. That you made the right decision in breaking up with her because I'm not sure how you could've stayed knowing her father's views and her inability to stand up to him. I'm going to tell you that I know exactly how you're feeling right now because I've felt it, Alfie. I've felt the same way."

"I just…I thought I was finally over this," Alfie mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. "I thought we were done with this. I thought I was done feeling so shitty over the color of my goddamn skin. But just when I think I'm in a good place with it, her dad tears me down and now I can't help but wonder if I'm even needed on this planet at all if nothing I do will ever be as good because I'm not white."

She winces at the verity of his words. She's felt the same way. Those feelings aren't foreign to any person of color. It's natural, expected almost. It took her a long time to rise above those feelings and decide to push herself to her full potential no matter what white people had to say about it.

"When Jerome and I first started dating, people were convinced he was just using me for my brain," Mara says softly. "Since I'm brown, it was all about how I'm the stereotypical nerd brown girl. My personality had no more substance than that. It was worse with Mick, actually, because at the time he was so into sports and not doing very well in school and I swoop in, become his girlfriend, start tutoring him, and his grades start going up. People were so sure no one could ever love me for me; they convinced me of it too. If all I would ever be good for was my smarts and the stereotype I fit under, why bother with anything?"

"What'd you do?" Alfie asks lowly, beginning to trace a pattern on his blankets. "How'd you get past that?"

"I talked to Jerome," Mara says. "Mick too, when we were together, but Jerome and I have gone much more in depth with it. And I told him how I felt and how people were making me feel and he listened. He listened to all of it, let me get everything out, and then he kissed me and told me he loved me and began listing everything he loves about me and why. That's when I knew his love was pure. Genuine. He loves me for who I am, not the color of my skin. And I don't care if people think that's the only reason he's with me, because I know it's not true."

"Amber and I…it's never really come up," Alfie mumbles. "Not until now. I don't know what to do. She doesn't know anything, Mara. About this shit, she's clueless. She's never had to even witness it. And I can't handle explaining it to her because I can't deal with her not getting it. It's too important and it hurts too much for her not to get it."

"I know," Mara replies. Alfie chokes out a dry sob and she moves a hand to his back, trying desperately to translate the pain she feels for him into warmth. "So how about _I_ talk to her? I'll explain it. I'll get her to understand, and then you can talk to her about your feelings, okay?"

"I just want things to go back to normal," Alfie whispers. "I love her so much. I want to be with her so bad. But I can't get over this. I can't push this aside and forget about it. Part of me…right after the break up… Part of me wanted to say fuck it and change my mind and go back to her because I love her and that means more to me than my shitty feelings about this. I know that's wrong, but I couldn't help it."

"Your mental health needs to come first," Mara agrees. " _You_ need to come first. You need to value yourself enough to put yourself before her, Alfie. You can't say you love her enough to care more about her staying with you than your own mental health and expect a healthy relationship. That's not going to work. She needs to try too. You can't give 80% and be satisfied with her 20. If she really loves you and really wants this to work, she needs to put effort in too."

"I don't know if I can deal with this if it ends bad," Alfie confesses. "I want her to be understanding and supportive and put her 50 in but I don't think I can handle it if she doesn't. I'm too okay with doing all the work, because her even going out with me is enough from her…I still think it's a fuckin' miracle that she said yes."

"Alfie…" Mara sighs and shakes her head. "Breaking up with her is the best decision you could've possibly made. Aside from the racism thing, you guys have some obvious problems you need to talk through if you want a healthy relationship. You need to talk about this stuff; you need to _tell_ her how you feel. Communication is so important, Alfie. You guys don't seem to have that…"

"We don't." Alfie nods miserably. "I love her, Mara…I really love her…"

"And if she loves you just as much, she'll be willing to put in the work. And if not, you'll move on and trust me, be better for it. You deserve someone to love and cherish you the way you do them, Alfie. And if Amber isn't that person, then she isn't that person. You can't settle. You don't deserve to settle."

"I stopped caring about me a long time ago."

* * *

"Come here."

Eddie smashes his lips against hers as soon as his bedroom door shuts. He pushes her against it, deepening the kiss, and she smiles into it, curling her arms around his biceps. They pull away for air and she gazes at him, taking in his messy hair and kiss bitten lips, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"You're amazing, you know that?" She murmurs. "I just…I don't know why you'd do something like that for me. After all I put you through…I couldn't have asked for a better gift, Slimeball."

"Hey, I thought we were past that," Eddie replies, pecking her lips. "It's done, okay? Stop bringing it up. It's history. Doesn't matter anymore. You deserve the world, Yacker. But I couldn't put that in a box, so you gotta settle for this."

Patricia kisses him again, so she doesn't have to respond with another self-deprecating comment that he will inevitably reject and spend five minutes explaining why. She doesn't need that. She's not fragile. She's doesn't need constant reassurance, or, she _shouldn't_. She refuses to be one of those stupid girlfriends that relies on her boyfriend to constantly tell her she's beautiful and perfect and worth it. Those are the kind of girls she hates. She will not be one of them.

Today is about Patricia and Eddie, not Patricia being a whiny overreacting bitch and Eddie being his usual amazing self. It seems like that's what their relationship has transpired into and she hates it. She needs to be better. He has problems too. He doesn't have time to babysit her and deal with the mess that she is.

"Yacker? You okay?"

She shakes her head to clear it and forces a smile. "Fine. Now where were we?"

She pulls him in for another kiss, but he pushes back, looking her up and down. The hurt of rejection blossoms and envelops her like a tidal wave. He doesn't want to kiss her? Did she do something wrong? Why wouldn't he want to kiss her? What has she managed to fuck up this time?

"Don't lie to me," Eddie says gently. "I know you better than that. You're not feeling good, are you?"

"I'm fine," she insists. "Just need you."

"You have me and you still look like you're about to cry," Eddie points out. "Which means it's more than that."

"It's nothing," Patricia mumbles. "It's stupid. It's me being stupidly insecure and I just need to get the hell over myself."

"Stop that," Eddie replies. "Stop beating yourself up for feeling. It's okay. When did feeling things become so shitty, Yacker?"

"I just don't wanna be one of those stupid, whiny ass girlfriends that always needs you to tell me I'm pretty or something. I don't want to rely you and I don't want you to have to deal with my bullshit. You probably wanted a normal girlfriend and I'm trying so hard to be that but I'm not."

She exhales heavily and looks down at her feet, blinking against the building tears. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to look weak in front of him. She didn't want him to know that she's insecure and paranoid and _stupid_ , because that makes her just like any other girl and she doesn't want to be just some girl to him. She's worked so hard to establish herself as someone who doesn't give a fuck what people think but it's hard to keep that persona on all the time.

"I've never had a girlfriend, Patricia," Eddie says. "I've never dated anyone. Before you, I'd never even _thought_ about it. I had no expectations going in, and even if I did, you would've exceeded all of them. I like you for who you are, Yacker. You're not a robot. You're _human_. Humans have emotions. We feel things. You can't turn your emotions off and give a fuck about nothing. That's not how it works. You're human and you have emotions and you feel things and sometimes you get insecure. Hell, I get insecure sometimes too. And you wanna talk about dealing with your bullshit? How much of my baggage are you forced to deal with?" He rolls his eyes. "It's not dealing with your bullshit, it's understanding that you've been through a lot and listening and being there. I care about you, Patricia. But I need you to let me in. Part of being in a relationship means you don't have to go through these things on your own. You're not on your own anymore. I promise."

He needs to stop.

He needs to stop saying stupid, cheesy ass things, because it just makes her fall further and further in love with him. They've been together for less than a _month_ , and she already thinks she loves him. They're moving way too fast and she knows it. She knows it's too early for love. It's too early for any of it. But what seems wrong feels right and she doesn't know what to do.

Things with Adam moved fast too. They said I love you within a couple months of dating. It's why she fell so deep into his trap. She believed for so long that he loved her, when he didn't. But he'd keep saying it, and other stupid things that got right to her heart and pulled her in deeper. She knows Eddie's nothing like that, but a part of her is on edge nonetheless.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Patricia immediately notes the alarm on Eddie's face. She hates how scared and hesitant he looks. His hand feels clammy in hers. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She wanted to take a chance, give into her heart a little bit and see where it takes her, but she may've overstepped a little bit. Fuck.

"You don't want to," Eddie replies, before Patricia has the chance to take back her words. "I have nightmares and wake up screaming every night. You really don't want to."

"I do, Slimeball," she murmurs, reaching for his hand. "I really do. I don't care if you have nightmares. I don't mind waking up with you. Just wanna be close to you."

"No," Eddie says quickly. "Please, no. I'm sorry. I can't."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Alfie and Amber have more than the racism issues to work out, unfortunately. They'll talk soon, Mara needs to talk to Amber first. That's coming soon.**

 **Next chapter, we get a little insight into how Joy's been feeling, especially regarding the Peddie situation, and Mick's starting to suspect things with her may not be as okay as she claims they are. It's a bit of a Moy chapter, although Mick and Joy don't interact. We're shifting away from Peddie and Amfie for just a bit, which I hope is a much needed break considering I've been inundating you guys with them recently.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	42. Chapter 42

**Trigger warnings - self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, and mentions of anxiety/panic attacks.**

* * *

Everything is confusing.

The events over the past few days have been nothing short of a whirlwind and she needs a second to breathe. She needs a second to process, take it all in, get herself over the fact that one of her friends tried to kill himself and might be in a relationship with her best friend. Not to mention two of her other friends broke up, her boyfriend is injured, and everything in her life feels like it's falling apart.

Joy inhales a deep breath and bites down on her lip. She's trying so hard to resist temptation, trying so hard to keep herself from reining her nails down on her wrist even though that's all she wants to do.

The prospect of Eddie and Patricia being in a relationship makes her even more anxious. It's not that she doesn't want them to be happy, because she does, but things can't become a repeat of last year. If something goes wrong, if she hurts him or he hurts her and they break up, she's going to be pulled into the middle of it and things are going to spiral out of control again. She barely made it through last year. She cannot do that again.

Patricia was the bad one, the one who attempted suicide twice, the heavy self-harmer…Patricia was dealing with all the shit, but as her best friend, Joy was right there with her. She remembers countless sleepless nights listening to Patricia voice her suicidal desires and biting holes into her lip to keep from scratching at her wrists. It didn't take long for Patricia's suicidal thoughts to become her own. Falling into the clutches of those demons was torturous. She never thought she'd escape.

Mick was the reason she got through it then. Mick was the person who held her and comforted her when her own thoughts terrified her. Mick was the person who forced her to take a break from Patricia and focus on herself and her mental health. Mick was the only person who was looking out for _her_ wellbeing because she didn't give a shit about herself.

She can't go back to that.

She looks down at her wrist, down at the fading scars that line the inside of her forearm. There are so many. Studying them takes her back to a painful time in her life, a time when the fading white lines were a neat crimson, liquid spilling over the edges and dilating with her tears.

She knows what she's capable of. That's what makes this so terrifying.

She needs to stop thinking.

All it's done is get her into trouble. Her mind isn't her own anymore and it's terrifying. She needs someone else, another human being's presence so she can remember what it's like to be alive and stop fondling the thought of death like it's a warm blanket.

"Jerome?"

She gets off the couch and follows him to the door of his, Alfie's, and Mick's room. She's about to follow him inside when he turns around and raises an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Can we talk?" She asks, looking down at the floor. "I need someone."

She's not used to this. Last year her fingers would be coated red and her wrists would be burning but she wouldn't need someone else to feel better. She wouldn't need to rely on another person. She'd have to ditch the short sleeves and fake a sprained wrist but it'd all be on her. She'd be responsible for herself feeling better. Putting it in the hands of someone else is foreign and still makes her uneasy. She hates looking weak and she knows asking for help isn't weak but it still bothers her that she can't make things better on her own.

"I'm kinda busy, maybe later?" Jerome says hurriedly, hand on the doorknob. His eyes keep shifting to the door, and she can see his hand shaking.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Jerome insists. "We'll talk later, promise."

She shakes her head. Normally she'd be okay with it, but as Mick told her, there are times to be selfish, and this is one of them. She needs to put her needs first, and right now all she needs is a friend. She's being strong and picking the better option; she's picking a friend over a blade. She needs _something_ , and while a friend is the better choice, she might have to resort to breaking open a sharpener. "Please, Jerome. We don't even have to talk about serious shit, I just need someone. My thoughts are starting to scare me."

"No, Joy!" Jerome snaps.

She freezes. Her heart starts to pound as she stares at him. She feels like she's been dunked in a pool of frigid water. He's _never_ snapped at her like that. What could she have possibly done wrong? Wasn't he the one who _told_ her to come to him when she needed someone? Wasn't he the one who promised to be there for her? What the hell happened to all of that?

"Jerome, I'm sorry, I…I don't understand…"

Jerome seems to have realized the magnitude of what just happened, because he lets go of the door and faces her fully. "You need to talk to Mick, Joy. I can't help you right now. I can barely help myself."

And then he turns the handle and disappears into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

"I still can't believe you got me a guitar…"

Nina smiles, watching Fabian's fingers drift across the strings. He hasn't stopped playing it since he opened it, and she can't be happier. She was hoping he'd love it, but never imagined how much. It makes her heart warm to know that he's happy with his gift. After the hellish past couple of days, he deserves some happiness.

"You really like it?" She asks, draping an arm across his shoulders and leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Your old one's falling apart, and babe, your music is beautiful. You deserve an equally beautiful instrument to play it on."

"I love it," Fabian confirms, turning his head to peck her lips. "But I love you more. So much more. Thank you for this, Nina. I know I haven't been the best boyfriend these past few days…thank you for putting up with my shit."

"Stop," She says, nudging his shoulder. "I love you. I don't "put up with your shit". I stick by you during ups and downs because I love you and I want you to be happy. You were going through some stuff. That's okay. You're allowed to have some bad days, Fabian. No one's holding that against you."

"You can't tell me some of the stuff I said didn't hurt you."

She sighs. This is one of the things she hates about him. He blames himself for everything, beats himself up when there's no need to, shoulders everyone else's burden and then hates himself when it becomes too much. There's such a thing as being too selfless, and Fabian is the embodiment. He cares too much about other people and not nearly enough about himself.

"It did," she agrees. "But you weren't in a good place when you said those things. You were grieving, you were angry, and you were hurt. It's not like you actually meant them. It's just like the shit you said to Eddie. He's not holding anything against you because he knows you didn't mean any of it. Same here."

"What did I do to deserve you?" Fabian sighs, putting the guitar in its case and pulling her onto his lap. He tangles one hand through her hair and kisses her head. "What the hell did I do right to get someone as perfect as you in my life?"

"Everything." Nina leans up to peck his lips and presses their foreheads together.

"Oh jesus christ, keep your clothes on."

They both look to the door as it swings open and Mick limps through. He rolls his eyes at them, shifting a bit on his crutches. "You two are nauseating."

"Are you describing us or you and Joy?" Nina shoots back, but the smile on her face contradicts every word.

"Do you need some he-" Fabian moves to help Mick sit, but Mick shakes his head and points a crutch at him.

"It's a sprained ankle. I'm not a damn invalid. Sit down and cuddle your girlfriend." He leans his crutches against the wall and sits down in front of them, crossing his injured leg over his good one. "And spare me the making out, if that's even possible."

Nina rolls her eyes. "What'd you want, Mick?"

His face shifts. Joking turns to concern. He looks down at the floor, not meeting her eyes. "I'm worried about Joy," Mick says. "Ever since I got hurt she's been different. I don't know why. I don't know what to do. I'm worried she might try and kill herself, guys…" His voice breaks on the last word, right in time with Nina's heart.

"Where are you getting that?" Fabian asks. "Is this because of everything with Eddie?"

"She won't talk to me!" Mick exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. "She won't tell me anything. She's quiet and distant and has no opinion about anything!" He drops his voice to a whisper. "I've seen her looking at her wrists a lot recently. Like, staring at them like she wants to relapse. I'm so fuckin' scared. She's almost a year clean! She's doing so well! I just don't want her to screw it all up…"

"Breathe," Nina says gently. She scoots out of Fabian's grip and over to Mick, grabbing his hand and squeezing. "You're not gonna get anywhere if you're panicking. I know you're worried, and from what you're telling us you have a reason to be, but you gotta calm down."

"I love her," Mick whispers. "I love her so much and I wish I could take all this away because she doesn't deserve it. But I can't and it means she has to deal with depression and suicidal thoughts and cutting and it's so scary because I could lose her in an instant and there's _nothing_ I can do about it!"

"Breathe," Nina repeats. "I know you're upset, but you need to breathe."

"It's terrifying," Fabian agrees. "I've learned to live with that. Mental illness is fucking terrifying. But you can't live your life on edge, Mick. You'll make yourself crazy."

"I _love_ her!" Mick shouts. Nina shoots a glare at Fabian. She can feel Mick's heart pick back up. Now she has to try and calm him down again. It was hard enough the first time. "I love her with all I fuckin' have and she's a mess and I don't want to lose her! I can't forget about that!"

"I'm not asking you to," Fabian says calmly. He meets Nina's eyes and holds up a hand, a gesture of _I've got this, don't freak out, I know what I'm doing_. She trusts him enough to exhale, giving Mick's hand one more squeeze. "But Mick, depression isn't something you can cure by loving her. You can say sweet things and promise forever all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that there's a chemical imbalance in her brain that you _cannot_ fix. In this case, love isn't enough."

"Then what do I do?" Mick asks brokenly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I can't lose her, Fabian…I _can't_ …"

"You be there. But you _don't_ smother her," Fabian replies. "If she needs to vent, you let her. You be the voice of reason. Forget all the love crap and just focus on what she's telling you. When she tells you what she's worried about, give her genuine reasons why they're not a big deal. Don't just tell her you're here and you love her and expect it to fix itself because it won't. You can't love away her depression, Mick. You just can't."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Don't come after Jerome with pitchforks just yet. He's got reasons for shutting Joy out like that, reasons that'll be revealed in the next couple chapters. And Mick's on the path to figuring out what's wrong too, so Joy's not gonna be completely abandoned...hopefully. ;)**

 **Next chapter, Mara talks to Amber and Eddie realizes why Lucas is so wise to his struggles. Oh, and you find out some of what's up with Jerome. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.**


	43. Chapter 43

**Lot of bombshells this chapter. Trigger warnings - racism, anxiety, and mentions of suicide.**

* * *

She can't screw this up.

There's so much riding on this one thing, this one conversation, and she knows that if she messes it up she could potentially obliterate any chance of Amber and Alfie ever getting back together.

That's a lot of pressure.

She breathes, inhales and exhales steadily, and tries to focus on her conversation with Jerome, tries to focus on his arms on her shoulders as he reassured her that she'd do great. She tries to dredge up every bit of last night and soak it all in, remember every last piece, from Jerome's comforting words to the embrace he wrapped her in when it was all over. She tries to focus on all of it and center herself, tries to steady her breathing and calm her racing heart.

With one last deep breath, she walks into the room she shares with Amber and Patricia, straight over to sit on the edge of Amber's bed.

"Go through my dresser, pick whatever you want."

"What?" She's confused. Amber doesn't look up from her phone. She lifts a hand and points in the direction of the dresser she chose to store her belongings in at the beginning of the year.

"You have a date with Jerome, don't you?" Amber replies. "And you want to borrow one of my dresses since nothing you own is even remotely cute. Go ahead. It's not like I'm going on any dates anytime soon."

"That's not- no, Amber," Mara mutters. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"The love guru isn't working tonight, sorry," Amber says. "And really, I don't think I'm the best person to go to for love advice anymore. You saw how shitty things with Alfie turned out."

"It's _about_ Alfie!" Mara exclaims. She freezes and claps a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration. She wasn't supposed to do it like that. She wasn't supposed to blurt it out. This isn't a conversation that can survive off spontaneity. She's been planning out what to say for almost a day. This won't work unless she sticks to that plan.

She takes another breath, tries to compose herself, and forces the words out before Amber can voice her reaction. "We need to talk about you and Alfie, Amber. And this racism thing. It's big, so much bigger than you realize, and it's something we can't forget about. It's too important to Alfie for you not to hear this."

Amber swallows. Mara watches her, close enough that she can practically see the gears turning in her brain. She's hoping this goes well, for Alfie's sake. She knows he needs to let Amber go if she doesn't understand, but Alfie clearly feels strongly about her. It won't be easy.

"I know it's bad," Amber says softly. "But he told me I'd never understand. I can't understand. So why bother? I'm not gonna understand because I'm white. Maybe this is why so many interracial relationships fail."

"Stop," Mara replies sharply. "That's a bullshit excuse. I'm a person of color and I'm dating someone who's white. Jerome and I have had our fair share of problems with racism, trust me, but we're better than ever, Amber."

Amber sighs. She shifts to sit straight against her pillows, tossing her phone across the mattress and crossing her arms over her chest. "If you and Jerome have had these problems too, why did you stay with him and Alfie leave me?"

This is why Alfie couldn't do this. Amber is too clueless and Alfie is too fragile. Racism is so personal and Amber's naivety comes across as pure ignorance. "Because I didn't get torn apart by Jerome's father and have to come to the realization that he'd eventually pick his him over me."

"What? I never said anything like that!" Amber protests. "I tried to defend him, but my dad wouldn't listen!"

She knows Amber's ignorance isn't intentional, but it doesn't frustrate her any less. She just doesn't understand how someone can go through life this long without realizing something so glaring. Is this how good white people have it? Being so privileged that they don't even _know_ the struggles people of color face? How can they be so ignorant? Are they really that obsessed with themselves and their perfect lives that they choose to ignore the obvious struggles of the people around them?

"You didn't have to say it," Mara tells her. How does she put this in a way Amber will understand? She needs something to compare it to, but what… "Oh! Okay, imagine this. You and Alfie are on a date, and this really tall, really buff guy comes up to your table and starts insulting you. Alfie just sits there and let it happen, and eventually the guy goes away. Afterward, you ask Alfie why he didn't say anything, and he says that it's a fight he wouldn't have won. The other guy was huge and would've killed him. He tried to say something but it wasn't heard and he was too afraid of what the guy would do with him to persist. How do you feel?"

"Angry," Amber says immediately. "He should've defended me anyways."

"Why?"

"Because he's my boyfriend and he shouldn't let anyone say anything awful about- oh…" Amber comes to the realization at the end of her sentence, and Mara watches her face shift from confusion to genuine sadness. "I did that to him, didn't I? I let my dad say all those horrid things to him…I didn't defend him…"

Mara nods. "Racism may be new to you, but it's a constant battle for Alfie. He's dealt with it his entire life. It's so personal and so painful and _that's_ why he broke up with you, Amber. His mental health is more important than your relationship."

"Why didn't he just talk to me?" Amber whispers, shaking her head. Her voice breaks on the last word. Mara can hear the tears. The realizations are coming fast and she knows it's a lot to take in, but this isn't an issue that can be fed in small spoonfuls. It's hard to swallow no matter what. "If he'd just _said_ something…"

"He shouldn't have had to," Mara says gently. "You don't have to understand racism to know that your dad's comments were so disgusting and so _wrong_. You needed to say something then, Amber. That would've let Alfie know you care."

"He…he doesn't think I care about him? I love him." A tear slips down her cheek and she squeezes her eyes shut. "He's made me feel things no one else ever has. He keeps me calm and tells me I'm beautiful and loves me even when I don't love myself and I've…I've never had that but I've always needed it. I've always needed him."

"Why don't you tell him that?" Mara replies. She's trying so hard to keep her voice level, but it's never been harder. She wants to scream. Amber's ignorance makes her want to scream until she's lost her voice, because she had such an amazing guy and she knows it but she doesn't show it. She doesn't show it and she leaves Alfie feeling neglected and worthless and it's not fair. Lack of communication is going to kill whatever relationship they're trying to repair.

"I, um…I thought he knew…"

She takes another deep breath to hopefully calm the anger that's stewing, white hot and raw. "I'm sure you know you're beautiful, Amber. But he tells you anyway, doesn't he? Why? To make you feel good. He's doing his job as a boyfriend. You're not doing yours as a girlfriend. Not even fucking _close_."

The last sentence is a hiss that leaves Amber gasping but she couldn't help it.

This is a subject she's felt strongly about for a long time. She's seen it for years, girls expecting the utmost love and affection from their boys but being unwilling to reciprocate. Boys are people too. They're humans that deserve love and affection just as much as girls and she's not sure why that's so hard to understand.

Her relationship with Jerome is built on two-sided affection. She holds him and tells him how amazing he is just as often as he does her. She kisses him and cuddles him and makes him feel loved just like he does her. She does her part as his girlfriend just as he does his part as her boyfriend.

"You need to show Alfie you care, Amber," Mara says. "He thinks you don't; he has for a really long time. That's part of why he's hurting so much. If you want to fix this, you need to show him you care about him just as much as he cares about you. Otherwise your relationship will never work out."

* * *

Jerome smiles as his father is led out into the visiting area. He stands, exchanging a glance with the officer as she unlocks the handcuffs caging his father's wrists. She moves back and Jerome leans in for a hug.

"How've you been?" John asks, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. "What's new? Tell me everything."

Jerome shrugs. "It's all pretty much the same. Things are kinda tense and weird between everyone at the house. I don't like it. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually want school to start so we'll have a distraction…"

"How's your friend that attempted suicide? Eddie, right?" Jerome has to smile. He took a risk when he started opening up about his personal life. Letting his father in has been one of the hardest yet most worthwhile things he's ever done. He needed something to ground him, something to confirm his father's permanent reentry into his life. Trusting him with his secrets is Jerome's reminder that his father is back and here to stay.

"He's doing better," Jerome replies. "I think he and Patricia finally got their shit together. I'm not that worried about him. Which gives me time to overthink and worry about Alfie and now even Joy…"

"How's Alfie holding up? And what's going on with Joy?"

Jerome sighs. "They're both just relying on me. All Alfie wants to do is shut himself in our room. I have to convince him to eat and take care of himself. And Joy…she's in a bad place, but I can't help her because I'm too busy dealing with my own shitty place. But then I feel guilty for not being able to help. It's all a mess."

"You need to put yourself first, kid," John says. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something that's gonna be a pretty big shock."

Jerome's heart starts pounding right then and there, like someone's flipped a switch to turn it on. He hates it. Every time someone says something like 'we need to talk' or 'there's something I need to tell you', his mind goes on overdrive. Anxiety makes him assume the worst and it's exhausting. "What is it?"

"You were really young at the time, so I don't know if you'll remember this, but you have a sister, Jerome. She was born when you were three. Your mom was still obsessed with partying and going out every night, and I knew it'd be too hard to raise two young kids by myself, so I convinced her to put your sister up for adoption." John breathes out a deep sigh. "Seeing you has been such a blessing, Jerome. I didn't think I'd ever reconnect with you. I'm so glad we did. But seeing you has also made me wonder about your sister…where she is, how she's doing…do you think you could try and look into it? I know this is a shock, believe me, and I wouldn't be asking if I could do it myself, but our internet access is extremely limited here. Don't worry if you can't find anything. But if you do…I just want the chance to know her, like I'm getting to know you. I want the chance to be in her life, if she'll let me. And you deserve to know your sister. If she's anything like you, she's someone definitely worth getting to know."

* * *

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief when the door swings open and he sees Lucas standing in front of him. Jerome couldn't come with him this time, which led to worrying about running into another member of Lucas' family the entire drive over. He knows it's nothing to be scared about, but his anxiety thinks different. Every uncomfortable situation is one to be scared about. Every time he's inched out of his comfort zone, things start to get bad.

Part of him hates that Lucas works from his house, because the chance of encountering his wife or one of his kids is both high and terrifying. Jerome knows them. He would've had no problem with it. Eddie, on the other hand, only knows Lucas and Alex, and not even that much about Alex.

"Hey, come on in." Lucas punctuates the sentence with a yawn. "Want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

The coffee pot is full to the brim. Eddie looks from it to Lucas, noting the dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. He looks utterly worn out. He was wearing skinny jeans and a flannel for Eddie's last session, but he's dressed in baggy sweats and a Metallica shirt today. Of course, it is 9:30 in the morning, so that could account for part of it. "I'm okay, thanks though. Rough night?"

Lucas turns to one of the cupboards and grabs a mug. He fills it to the top and takes a long sip before he answers, closing his eyes. "Didn't sleep. I was up with Alex."

There is so much Eddie doesn't understand about Lucas and his family. That's very apparent. He doesn't know very much either, but from what he's gathered, Alex is a year older than them, which is why this doesn't make sense. He's seventeen years old, why would his father be staying up all night with him?

The way Jerome hugged Lucas still sticks out in his mind. He can't stop thinking about it. Lucas welcomed him like he was his son, embracing him tightly and tousling his fingers through Jerome's hair. If he didn't know better, Eddie would've thought it weird and slightly creepy, but it's obvious that Jerome has a very close relationship with Lucas. He longs for that, to someday be as close to his therapist as Jerome is.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asks, sneaking a quick glance at his phone before shoving his hands in his pockets.

Lucas shrugs. "He had a shitty night. I just wanted to be sure he wouldn't do something."

The realization doesn't hit immediately, but when it does, it's overwhelming. Eddie turns his head to the kitchen, searching the counters. There are no knives. No knives, nowhere to be seen. A sweatshirt is hanging off one of the chairs and there are two holes at the collar where strings should be. And there are no curtains in the entire house. Every window has blinds instead.

Holy fucking shit.

"Alex is…suicidal?"

Lucas smiles, but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Told ya I had real experience with this, kid."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Things are starting to get crazy. I wasn't planning on including Poppy, but I found the perfect opportunity to do it, so I had to take it. This is going to change everything for Jerome, trust me. ;) And Amber and Alfie's relationship hitches on Amber being able to recognize her faults and remedy them, which, hopefully, she does. And while Eddie learns more about Lucas, he's subconsciously learning he's not alone, and that realization enough is monumental for him.**

 **Next chapter, Jerome deals with the aftermath of all of this, and Amber finally works up the courage to talk to Alfie. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	44. Chapter 44

**Sorry this took so long, I've been really busy with the end of high school and packing for my vacation, I haven't had the time to write.**

 **Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of racism.**

* * *

He can't breathe.

The world is spinning and his mind is racing and he can't fucking _breathe._

Everything is too much.

His chest hurts and he's dizzy and the world feels so fast, like it's about to collapse in on itself due to sheer speed. It's terrifying. He doesn't know what's happening. Nothing feels okay. Everything he's known for the past sixteen years has been a lie. His world has been shattered in a single hour and he's not sure where to even _start_ picking up the pieces.

He slams his head against the wall, hoping for something, anything. Hoping that the pain will bring him back to reality, that he'll be able to calm himself down long enough to call someone. Mara's at school, working on a project. He doesn't know where anyone else is. He doesn't know if he can do this alone.

He has a _sister_. A sister he didn't even know about. He has a sister that's fourteen years old and he didn't even know about it. His father that's in prison knew, but he didn't. Who does that? How could he not know? How could he not remember having a _sibling_? It's not like forgetting homework or to text someone back. He doesn't remember another flesh and blood family member.

He's freaking out.

His phone is lying a few feet away, on the empty expanse of mattress. He reaches for it, feebly. Exhaustion is starting to hit full force. He doesn't know how long he has before it overcomes him fully. He knows that passing out during a panic attack is dangerous. Everything about this is dangerous. Everything about it is scary.

He reaches for his phone and grasps feebly at nothing for a few seconds. He still can't see straight. Everything is blurry. He doesn't know how he manages to grab the phone and navigate to the contacts screen, but soon enough the phone is ringing and he's trying to force his hands to stop shaking so he doesn't drop it.

"Jerome? What's up?"

"I- I can't," he hiccups, his voice breaking. "Can't-can't breathe."

"Hey, kid. Kiddo. Listen to me. Focus on my voice, okay? I gotcha." Lucas shifts his tone from confused to comforting. It's that dad voice he's started using on Jerome in the past few months. He may not be his real father, but Lucas is the closest Jerome has.

"Every-everything hurts," he chokes out. He's crying now, full-on sobbing into the phone. He's surprised he hasn't dropped it yet, but the death grip on the device is the only thing grounding him anymore. "I don't-I can't…can't do this…"

"Jerome, listen to me. I need you to take a deep breath, okay? You _can_ breathe. Your mind is playing tricks on you, it's tricking you into thinking you can't. Take a deep breath."

Jerome inhales and it helps, but not by much. "M'so dizzy…"

"Are you sitting down?" Jerome wants to nod, but he knows Lucas can't see that. He murmurs an affirmative into the phone and closes his eyes. He's so tired. Panic attacks are always exhausting. Lucas told him a while back that the energy it takes to run a marathon is the same amount used during a panic attack, which explains why he feels like he's going to pass out.

"Just keep taking deep breaths, okay?" Lucas says gently. "Let your breathing return to normal. You're okay, I promise. Everything is okay. You're going to be fine. I'm not going to hang up until I'm sure of that."

Jerome does as he's told, concentrating on breathing in and out and trying to focus solely on that. Everything he was worried about slowly starts to disappear and eventually he's able to breathe normally again. The exhaustion is still there but the dizziness isn't. "I have a sister. My dad told me. I have a sister I didn't even know fuckin' existed until an hour ago. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Keep breathing. You can't do anything if you're panicking," Lucas reminds him. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"It's all just…so much," Jerome mumbles. "Everything with Alfie and Joy and my dad, all of it together feels so fucking overwhelming and then this bomb got dropped on me and it feels like the world is falling apart…"

"Aw, kid," Lucas sighs. "We've talked about this. Breathe. Take a second to think about your problems, and start separating."

"I know, I know, shit I can and shit I can't," Jerome replies. "I skipped that, went straight to panic."

"Let's do it now, alright?" Lucas suggests. "What's the shit you can't do?"

Jerome pulls the phone away from his ear and touches a button on the screen to put Lucas on speaker. He lets his head slam against the wall and closes his eyes as he answers, "I can't make Alfie better. I can't handle Joy's shit and mine at the same time. And I can't pretend I don't have a goddamn sister I didn't know about!"

"Okay," Lucas says. "Now, what _can_ you do? How can you make your problems less overwhelming?"

"I can talk to Alfie, tell him how I'm feeling and let him know I'm there for him," Jerome says thoughtfully. "And I can talk to Joy too, and tell her that she needs to rely on someone that's not me-"

"I'm gonna interrupt for a sec," Lucas cuts in. "You can send her to me. If she needs someone to talk to, give her my number or bring her in. You don't have to play therapist when I actually am one."

"Okay," Jerome breathes. He's already feeling lighter. Relief is seeping in, filling all the cracks that the panic attack caused. Things weren't as bad as they seemed. They weren't as bad as his anxiety made them out to be. It was just a matter of taking a deep breath and looking at the situation logically. "And I can visit my dad and write him and try to learn more about my…my…sister…"

"Good job, kid," Lucas replies. Jerome can hear the pride in his voice. "I'm so proud of you."

* * *

She's terrified.

Standing in front of Alfie, Jerome, and Mick's room has never scared her as much as it does now. She lifts her hand to turn the doorknob and she can see it shaking. Her stomach is churning and her mind is racing. She's been uncomfortable all day. Is this what it's like to live with anxiety? Is this the constant state Eddie lives in? She doesn't blame him for being suicidal, if this was her reality every day, she'd want to die too.

She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut. Now or never. Bite the bullet. Get it over with.

She goes to turn the doorknob, but stops with her hand hovering just above it. She's not dating Alfie anymore. The relationship perks end when you break up. She doesn't have an all-access pass to his room anymore.

She folds her hand into a fist and knocks a couple times, swallowing nervously. This is so stressful. She wants to run. This conversation, the build up to it…it's all nerve-wracking, more nerve-wracking than anything she's done in her entire life.

"Door's open, Jerry."

"It's me," she says. Her voice breaks on the last word and she winces. She's trying so hard to keep it together. She doesn't want to cry. Alfie doesn't need to comfort her right now.

A couple seconds later, the door swings open. When she gets a look at Alfie, all that's left of her heart shatters to pieces.

He's dressed in baggy sweats and an old undershirt that has a lot of holes in it. There are huge bags under his red, bloodshot eyes. He looks haggard, like he's just come out of a war. Amber's seen him at his worst before, but never as low as this.

Alfie forces a smile. "What's up?"

"Can we talk?" Amber asks. "I've been thinking, a lot, and there are some things I need to say."

Alfie says nothing, instead steps back and opens the door wider so she can enter. The room looks the way it always does. Alfie can't be too messy when two other people share the space with him. She does notice his unmade bed and the numerous tissues piled up in his wastebasket, and the sight brings more tears to her eyes. She really fucked up.

Alfie sits on the edge of his bed and motions for her to join. She does, and although her instinct is to sit right next to him and press herself into his side, she resists. She misses him so much.

He looks at her expectantly and she gulps. This is it. "I, um…I talked to Mara. And Jerome. And I've been getting dirty looks from the rest of the house ever since we broke up, so I know it was my fault."

"It wasn't you, I just-"

"It was my fault," she repeats. She's starting to see exactly what Mara was talking about. Alfie's taken so much of their relationship on his shoulders. It's almost like he was the only one in it, like she was expected only to look pretty and kiss him for people to see once in a while, while he did the rest. That's not a relationship. She can't believe she thought it was. "I…I was a really bad girlfriend, Alfie. I expected you to do everything, give everything, and I gave almost nothing. You were so good to me…you made me feel so special, and I threw it in your face when I didn't defend you in front of my dad. You made me feel everything and I made you feel like nothing and I'm so fucking sorry. You didn't deserve that."

She knows she's crying by the end but she doesn't want him to see. She doesn't want to give him the job of comforting her. This isn't about her. This is about him and his feelings, hers need to take a backseat for once.

"Ambs…" Alfie lifts his arm to wrap around her shoulders and she shakes her head, scooting away. She's making this about herself again. He doesn't need to comfort her. He always comforts her. He always puts her needs over his own, and it's not fair to him. She was blind to it before, but her eyes have been opened and she refuses to go back to being ignorant.

"No, Alfie!" She replies. "I fucked up. I deserve to feel like shit. You don't have to be your amazing self and try to make that go away. I don't want it to go away."

"You're amazing, Ambs," Alfie says softly. He holds up a hand when she opens her mouth again. "Listen. I didn't break up with you because I didn't love you. That's why this hurts so much. I broke up with you because I felt like I was dying inside. I've worked so hard to overcome racism and love myself despite people telling me I'm wrong for my skin color. It took so much fuckin' strength, you don't even know. And your dad…I can't do this, I can't be with you, if that's what I'm gonna be forced to suffer through. You were gonna havta choose, me or him, and I didn't want you to do that, so I made it easy. I don't want you to pick me over your dad, Amber. I'm not worth that."

"That's fucking bullshit," Amber fires back. Her heart is still racing. Why does he get to decide for her? It was a choice between her dad and him and he didn't make it easy, he made the decision. That's not how it works. How does he know she would've picked her dad? It wouldn't have been a no brainer. It wouldn't have been easy. How could he possibly think it'd be no big deal? "You didn't make it _easy_ , you made the _decision_. And Alfie, it was the wrong one."

Alfie stares at her. She swallows and plows on. "I would've picked you, Alfie. My dad…yeah, he's my father and he's taken care of me and given me money to buy all these fancy things, but he's never really been a _dad_. He's never given me love or affection. He's never made me feel special or told me how beautiful I was or even made it seem like he was ever proud of me. He's strict and demanding and never satisfied and it's made me feel awful about myself my entire life." She shakes her head and grabs one of his hands. "But you, Alfie…you make me feel like a princess. You make me feel like I'm okay, like I can breathe, like everything is going to turn out right. You make me feel like I can do anything, and you give me all the love and affection and support I need to do it. Sure, if I picked my dad I'd have money, but picking you gives me so much more. And Alfie, the biggest lesson you've taught me is there's more to life than money. So yeah, I'd pick you. I've done a pretty shitty job of showing it, but I'd pick you over my father any day."

* * *

 **Thoughts? What do you guys think is gonna happen with Alfie and Amber? Are they salvageable? Don't worry, the Peddie is back again next chapter. And trust me, it's one you guys have been waiting for.**

 **Next chapter, Patricia hits a breaking point, Eddie has another session with Lucas, and the moment you've all been waiting for: New Year's Eve. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	45. Chapter 45

**We're a little early today, but I'm in India for my vacation so I'm nine and a half hours ahead and wanted to post this while I had some wifi. I doubt any of you will mind.**

 **Trigger warnings - suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression, self-harm, anxiety, and panic attacks.**

* * *

She's been in this place before.

Turning a bottle of pills over in her hands, looking longingly at flesh just waiting to be split open…she's been here twice before. She's been ready, been determined, been done enough to end things and that scares her the most. She's capable of doing it. She's tried twice. She knows what her limits are and they scare her more than any ideation of suicide would.

The problem is that things haven't been particularly bad recently. Actually, they've been kinda great. Better than ever. Everything is going well with Eddie, all their friends are home early, there's no school to stress about…she should be having the time of her life, but she's not. The thing about suicide and mental illness in general is that they're never really gone.

She hasn't been in a dark place but she could still kill herself, right here, right now, with no second thoughts. She hasn't thought about it in detail but she could do it. Things haven't been particularly bad, but they're always the usual level of bad. She's always in a dark place, that's the depression and her mind refusing to shut up.

Eddie has made it better and worse at the same time. Being with him has made things so much better. He's gotten her out of her mind. Being in her head 24/7 is dark and scary and she'd give anything to get away. When she's with Eddie, she escapes. She focuses on him and their time together. The suicidal thoughts don't matter. The temptation to relapse is gone. He takes it all away.

Sometimes.

Other times, when he's going through a depressive episode himself, it makes things worse. His suicide attempt was a catalyst. He triggers her, as much as she hates to admit it. When he talks about suicidal ideation, he brings hers back. He reminds her of the bad and good all at the same time.

She knows killing herself would hurt him. She knows it'd destroy him. It's not that she doesn't care about him. It's not that she _wants_ to hurt him. He'd understand. He knows what it's like. He knows how it feels to contemplate, to debate, to wonder if hurting your loved ones is worth freeing yourself from pain. He knows what it's like to want to do something for yourself, be selfless for once. He knows how it feels, he's been there before, he wouldn't be _too_ mad at her.

She swallows, twisting the cap off and shaking a handful of pills into her palm. They stare back at her, small blue shapes blurring into an ocean of freedom. She blinks back the tears in her eyes and shakes out another handful.

It would be so fucking easy.

"Don't you fucking _dare_."

She whirls around. The pills go flying, clattering across the floor. She looks from the bottle to the doorway, her heart pounding in her chest. Any semblance of calm has turned straight to cold hard panic. It washes over her like a tidal wave, sending flashes of cold throughout her body.

Eddie crosses the room quickly. His expression is stony as he kneels in front of her and brushes the pills that have remained in her hand onto his. He takes the bottle and puts them back inside, then drops further to the floor and begins collecting the fallen ones. It's only once all of them are back inside the bottle and it's carefully shoved in his pocket that he begins to speak, and she braces herself for the worst.

She expects him to yell, to immediately go off about how stupid and thoughtless the mere idea of suicide was. She expects to get berated and have to tell herself he's saying it because he cares. She expects all of this because she remembers it from when she woke up in the hospital after her two previous suicide attempts. Joy was pissed both times. She knew it was just because Joy was worried, but hearing how stupid she was right after she'd tried to _kill_ herself really wasn't the best feeling in the world.

But no, all Eddie says is "come here." He pulls her into his arms and she buries her face in his shirt, closing her eyes and letting her tears finally fall. She's been blinking back and holding back and repressing things for too long.

She cries and Eddie holds her and it only confirms that he's different. He's not like the people who've yelled at her and belittled her and made her feel like absolute shit about herself at a time when she really just needed a self-confidence boost. Eddie doesn't talk, doesn't say anything except that he's here and he cares and everything's going to be okay.

And honestly, that's all she needs.

* * *

"So, where'd you wanna start today?"

Eddie shifts in his seat and tries to keep his gaze off Lucas' arms. He can't help it. Ever since he figured out that Alex is suicidal, the wheels have been turning. He's trying to put the pieces together but he's missing so many. He knows Lucas' parents were abusive, he has PTSD, and he's tried to kill himself, and he added Lucas' son is suicidal to that repertoire. There's so much more to the story.

Lucas' arms are covered in tattoos. Ink stretches past the collar of his shirt and up his neck. He has his septum pierced and gauges in both ears. But it's more than just him fitting a stupid stereotype. Eddie's seen the risen scars on both his arms. He's watched Lucas kiss his wife goodbye like it's the last time. And when it comes to the kids…that's where everything gets confusing.

Lucas is the most attentive, caring father Eddie's ever seen. His own example was less than stellar, but he's pretty sure fathers aren't usually so interested in their children's lives. His kids talk to him like he's their best friend. They're _honest_. That's the most perturbing part.

It's obvious that Alex has some kind of mental illness, and he's willing to bet that Lucas' PTSD isn't the only mental health issue he struggles with. His arms look like a battlefield and that's probably symbolic of the war he fought to get to this point. Eddie knows his own arms are. That's why this is so hard to understand. How do you go through so much shit and still manage to stay standing? How do you not give up? How do you focus on recovery when everything is going to shit around you?

He's trying to focus on himself and his recovery but he can't help think about all of this. There's so much he wants to know. He knows it's his mind subconsciously trying to distract him from his hell of a life, and at this moment in time, he's okay with that. Things are absolutely crazy and he needs to get away, even if it means getting tangled within the threads of his therapist's personal life.

"Just ask, kid."

"What?"

Lucas rolls his eyes. "I'm not blind. You're staring. What do you wanna know?"

"How do you do it?" Eddie asks. "You said you were abused for thirteen years, you tried to kill yourself ten times, your son is suicidal…how do you keep going? You've had so much shit happen to you…how did you not give up? That's why this is so hard. I'm just so tired. I want to give up. I don't wanna fight a losing war anymore. I don't know how to do this because I don't want to."

"You tell yourself it'll get better," Lucas replies immediately. "And you won't believe it at first. That's supposed to happen. You've been through hell and the idea that it'll one day get better is fucking bullshit because if it were going to get better it already would've by now. But you believe it anyway. And you survive anyway. And you wait for the day you start living, instead of just surviving."

"That'll never happen," Eddie mutters. "I'm too fucked up for that. It's been too long. Even though I'm away from them they still destroy me in my dreams. I freak out over the stupidest things and my anxiety is so fucking bad and I get sad too much and I don't know how to live with any of it."

He's breathing heavily by the end of it, panting hard. His heart is racing and he feels dizzy. He needs everything to stop for a couple seconds while he gets his breath back. He brings a hand to his chest and tries to inhale and exhale, but the panic rages on.

"Just breathe, kid," Lucas instructs gently. "I've been where you are, trust me. I've been down at rock bottom so many times and I still wonder how the hell I got myself out." He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "You do what you have to, to survive. Whatever you need to get through the day. It's messy and it sucks but anything is better than death."

"I thought the point of this was to get better," Eddie mutters. "But to not need to rip open my skin to feel better, to not want to hurt myself every time something bad happens. That's what's fucked up about me, isn't it? That's what needs fixing?"

"I didn't stop cutting until after Alex was born," Lucas confesses. "Because that's when I found something to live for that wasn't a blade. Still haunts me every day that Raven wasn't enough, but she wasn't. My son, my daughters, my kids are my reason. On the bad days, when part of me thinks I need that blade, I go into their rooms and hug them tight and breathe them in and I remember what it's like to feel alive. And you'll find something, trust me. One day you'll find something to live for that's just as therapeutic but nowhere near as harmful as seeing your blood. And I'll be by your side until you get there and even after, I promise."

* * *

Before they know it, New Year's Eve is here and everything starts to fall into place.

Eddie, for one, can't keep the smile off his face. He's lived the days leading up to this one in pure bliss, unable to contain the excitement of finally being able to kiss Patricia in public. Sneaking around has been so hard and he hates lying to their friends. He's on edge, just like he was before the house knew about his past, scared to do or say anything that could let the cat out of the bag. They've had too many close calls. He's seen the looks Joy's been giving him. She's onto them.

He shuts the lid of his laptop and puts it on the coffee table before turning and scooting forward to lie across the entire couch, resting his head on the armrest. It allows him to get a glance at the entire room, including the kitchen, where he can see Mara talking earnestly with Trudy.

The common room is surprisingly empty for a quarter past eleven. They don't have the 10 o'clock bedtime during break, but Amber's the only one sitting on the other couch, flicking lazily through her phone. Everyone else is in their rooms. The vibe of the house has been really tense and weird lately. He's not sure why, but everyone's been acting strange. He gets the tension between Amber and Alfie, but Jerome and Joy avoid each others' gazes and Mick and Nina have started talking a lot more recently. He doesn't know if Fabian's concerned, but it's slightly suspicious. All the time he hasn't been able to spend with Patricia has translated into time to observe the rest of the house.

"Alfie, I really don't wanna do this right now."

Eddie lifts his head and turns to the hallway, where Alfie's leading a disgruntled Jerome into the common room. He has a firm grasp on Jerome's wrist that he doesn't let go of even when he forces Jerome to sit next to Amber.

"It's almost midnight, Jerome," Alfie reminds him. "We always watch the ball drop together. It's tradition."

"So now you give a shit about tradition?" Jerome shoots back, letting his head fall against the couch.

Alfie sighs. "Christmas was shitty. I'm sorry. That was the best I could do. I fucked that tradition up but that doesn't mean this one is fucked up too."

"You're only good because you talked to Amber," Jerome mumbles. "Otherwise you'd be right here with me, wondering why we're celebrating a new year if it's just gonna be as crappy as this one was."

"Sorry! We completely lost track of time!" Nina practically flies into the room with Fabian hot on her heels. Eddie rolls his eyes. Their faces are flushed and their hair is messy; he knows exactly what had them so busy.

"We've still got 45 minutes, chill," he says, making a big show of stretching out his legs. Nina swats at one of his calves, grinning at him before going to sit with Fabian in one of the armchairs.

"Move, weasel."

Eddie glances up, meeting Patricia's gaze and trying to force himself not to smile. The look in her eyes is pure lust. It takes everything in him not to grab her into a kiss.

He knows they have a lot to talk about. They haven't had a conversation about what she almost did a couple days ago, and he knows it's inevitable. He wanted to give her a couple days to process, let his actions speak for how he feels about it, try not to make her feel like he's angry because he has no grounds to be. They'll talk about it later. All he's focused on right now is that in 43 minutes one of the biggest secrets he's ever had to keep will be out in the open. He's high off the freedom.

He brings his knees into his chest so he's only taking up two-thirds of the couch rather than the full thing. Patricia sits in the empty space, but grabs his feet and rests them on her lap. He shoots her a confused glance. Isn't this kinda coupley? They're trying not to draw attention to themselves, isn't that defeating the purpose?

Patricia just smiles at him.

So he sits back and relaxes into the realization that in less than an hour their secret will be out and they'll finally be free.

Time passes, slowly and painfully, but it does. Five minutes turns to ten and then fifteen and soon it's 11:59 and they're all gathered together in the common room, staring at the TV. Mick and Joy joined them at just the last minute, right in time for the countdown.

Eddie shifts on his feet, heart pounding in his chest. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2…"

"1!"

He doesn't have time to think. A pair of lips touches his and he melts.

His arms find Patricia's waist just as hers wind around his neck and he feels tears burn in his eyes because this feels like home.

When they pull apart, Eddie realizes they were the last to do so. Every other couple's kiss was a peck. Theirs was long, passionate, a borderline-makeout. Theirs meant something more.

"You two are…no! No, this can't be happening! You can't do this! No!"

Joy rips herself out of Mick's arms and runs from room, and that's when the high Eddie's been riding for the past few hours crashes.

Oh, that's right.

Good things don't happen to him.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Hopefully this makes up for the recent lack of Peddie, although you know with me...nothing is good for too long. ;) That'd just make things too easy.**

 **Next chapter, the aftermath of this has the whole house on edge, Amber and Alfie discuss where they're going with their relationship, and Alfie finally starts to pick up on the fact that Jerome might not be so okay after all. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	46. Chapter 46

**I'm sorry there wasn't an update last week. I've been on vacation (I just got back today), and I've been spending time with family and sightseeing and all of that; I haven't had time to write.**

 **Trigger warnings - depression, mentions of suicide, self-harm, and anxiety.**

* * *

Patricia has never been angrier in her entire life.

She's spent so many years being unhappy. So many days, just wishing for the sweet release of death because living seemed that impossible. She's been torn down so many times, hit rock bottom just as many, wondered when her miserable, pathetic excuse for an existence would finally end. She's been shattered, ripped apart, tried to put broken pieces back together to no avail.

And now, now when she's finally found something good, when she's finally found a guy that makes her feel like the world doesn't matter, that makes her feel so safe and loved and cared for, that makes her feel like she can finally start moving past all the bad stuff and let the good take over, Joy has to ruin it.

"What the actual fuck is her fucking _problem_?" Patricia exclaims. It's like a punch to the stomach. She can't be happy about this because Joy isn't, and it's not fair. She doesn't have the support of her best friend and it makes her feel sick because this is something she's felt so good about for so long but Joy's reaction has officially tainted it. The moment she's been waiting for for days has been ruined and it's taking everything in her not to cry. "She's so fucking selfish, she gets to be all happy and disgusting with her boyfriend but when I find someone she throws a fucking hissy fit. Fucking-"

Eddie cuts her off with a peck to her lips. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he holds his hands up in surrender. "Relax. _Breathe_. It's gonna be okay." He leans in closer to whisper in her ear, "and in case you forgot, Joy's boyfriend is standing two feet away and if looks could kill you'd be so dead."

"So...um...you two are a thing now?" Nina breaks the silence timidly. The tense atmosphere has returned and it's brought nausea with it. Everyone's staring at them. It's sticky and uncomfortable and the seven extra pairs of eyes aren't helping.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She's not supposed to be feeling sick about revealing something that should've brought her utter relief. Eddie isn't supposed to be looking around the room with uncertainty in his eyes, fearful of what's to come. This was supposed to be happy news, a glimmer of light amongst the past few months of dark. This was supposed to make things better, not worse.

At her nod, Fabian follows with, "how long?"

"Since his suicide attempt," Patricia says. She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. All she wants is to press herself into Eddie's side, but the circumstances make even that a debatable decision. She can't believe they're back at square one.

"But Eddie..." Mara ventures in a soft voice. "Are you sure about all of this? You two didn't have the best beginning…wouldn't it be more beneficial to give it a bit more time to make sure everything's really okay between you two?"

Patricia swallows. The nausea increases tenfold. She thought they were past that. She thought they were over it. She thought she could finally start getting over it, that it was done and forgotten and a thing of the past. She didn't realize everyone still sees her as the monster she was, the monster who called Eddie an entitled American brat and emphasized exactly how unneeded she thought he was to his face.

Is that still really what she is to them?

"Yacker no, don't cry…" She doesn't realize there are tears on her face until Eddie uses his thumbs to wipe them away. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and brings her into his chest. Fuck what their judgey "friends" think. She buries her face in his shirt and wraps her arms around his waist, trying to pull herself together.

"Everything is fine between us, Mara," Eddie says. His voice is icy. "Better than fine, in fact. We're perfect. It's time to let the past go. If I can do it, so can you guys. She's sorry. She's done everything she can to prove it. It's time to stop rubbing her mistakes in her face. She doesn't deserve it. I've forgiven her. I've fallen for her. We're happy. Telling you guys…this was big for us. It was supposed to make things better. The bad stuff would be over. There'd be no more secrets. We could focus on _us,_ and maybe be happy, the kinda happy you guys have been shoving in our faces all year. But I guess that was too much to ask."

* * *

The next few weeks are tense.

They go back to school a couple days after New Year's, and getting back into the routine of things is a welcome distraction from how uncomfortable the atmosphere is in the house.

They still haven't figured out why Joy is so opposed to the idea of Eddie and Patricia being together, but she's made it very obvious that she doesn't support them with her continued dismissal and disgruntlement whenever they're in the room.

Alfie isn't sure what's going on in Joy's head, but he can't help but be angry, seeing the anguish on Patricia's face. She almost looks guilty, and that's the most enraging part. It's so fucking shitty to feel guilty for being with someone who makes you happy, only because your best friend doesn't approve. He's been in that place before. He knows it all too well.

Amber didn't have Jerome's good graces in the beginning. Jerome wasn't on board with their relationship for a long time. He didn't think she was right for Alfie, that she wasn't worth the sacrifice. Alfie remembers how angry he was at Jerome for that and knows Patricia's fury toward Joy can only rival it.

The only difference is the circumstance. Jerome had reason to be worried when he and Amber started dating. It succeeded months of Alfie pining and Amber refusing and claiming he wasn't her type or acting like he wasn't good enough for her. Of course Jerome had a reason to worry when they did eventually get together. Alfie, although he was pissed, knew Jerome had his best interests in mind. That's more than Patricia can say.

No one knows why Joy's so against Patricia and Eddie being together. Everyone's been harping on Mick, harassing him to try and glean the truth, but she's been a brick wall that even he hasn't been able to penetrate. Alfie wants to try and talk to her too. Maybe he can make her see the damage she's doing to Patricia.

Because of how weird things have been, he's gotten a chance to really think about things. He's gotten a chance to stop for a second, sit down, and evaluate his life and the choices he's made and the resulting consequences.

And it's left him worried.

All his attention and all his time have been directed toward him and Amber and everything going on between them. That's all he's been able to think about. His relationship with Amber and the mess it's turned into has taken over his life, leaving everything else on the backburner. One of those things is too important to deserve that.

Something's wrong with Jerome and while Alfie doesn't know what, he knows that it's affected him enough that he's gone back to old habits. Alfie's noticed the long sleeves, the lack of interaction…Jerome is edging back into the shadows, trying to suffer in silence, and he doesn't know why. He doesn't understand why.

They're stronger together. They help each other and push each other and give each other the encouragement and support needed to go on. Alfie doesn't know what he'd do without Jerome in his life.

Something needs to change. He needs to figure this shit out with Amber so he can focus on making sure Jerome isn't going to fall off the deep end.

Jerome's been putting him first for the past few weeks, and now it's time for him to return the favor.

* * *

"Can we talk?"

Amber isn't nearly as nervous this time. She's not shaking and she doesn't feel like puking. Her heart's beating faster than usual but she counts it as a major improvement from the last time she asked to have a conversation with Alfie. Being around him doesn't scare her as much, and for that, she's grateful.

"Yeah, I was just gonna come up to your room," Alfie replies, patting the empty square of couch beside him. She takes a seat, gingerly, running a hand through her hair. She's nervous by default now. It's become the new normal around Alfie. She doesn't want to say the wrong thing or do something that sends the wrong message so she's alert, all the time. It's exhausting but it's better than being passive and dismissive and letting offensive remarks slide. "You can go first."

"What are we?" She asks. "I mean…do you ever want to get back together? Do you think we can fix us?" She swallows. "Are we worth fighting for, Alfie? Be honest."

Alfie says nothing for a moment. She turns her face away, not wanting him to see the tears building in her eyes. She'd hoped that would be a no-brainer. That they're strong enough to get past this and any other obstacle in their relationship. She thought they were, but if Alfie doesn't feel the same way then things may never go back to the way they were. She has to learn to be okay with that.

He grabs both her hands and looks her in the eye. "I love you so much. When I think about the future, I see you in it, I see you beside me, I see us together. I think we're strong enough to get past this, Ambs. I really do. And I _know_ we're worth fighting for. But-"

There it is. He got her hopes soaring back up, only to have them crash back down almost instantly. She feels like her heart is on a roller coaster and he's the master controller. It's paralyzing.

"Alfie, I…" She trails off, shaking her head. "I can't do this if you're gonna tell me we're worth fighting for and sometime later bring all this back up and use it against me again. I can't let you have that kind of control. If you wanna fix this, I'm in, but once we do, it's done."

"If only racism worked that way," Alfie says bitterly. "If only the Emancipation Proclamation and the North winning the Civil War and laws abolishing slavery being passed meant everything was done." He sighs. "Listen. What I was trying to say was…I need time. I still need time. I don't think we should try again just yet. I'm still a fuckin' mess and I still see your dad every time I look at you and I need time for that to change. If we get back together now, I can promise you that some of this will stay buried and come back later to haunt us both. I need time."

There she goes again, saying something offensive without meaning to. She never knows what to say anymore. She doesn't know anything anymore. What to say, how to act, what the right decisions are for them…she's clueless. Alfie has the control because she doesn't know what the hell to do anymore. That's not good foundation for rebuilding a relationship.

"I'm sorry," she breathes. "I'm still trying to figure all of this out. And honestly…I don't know if I'm ready to get back together yet either. I need time too. I need to work on a lot of things. I don't want to be this nervous around you. I don't want to always be second-guessing and contemplating and planning out what to say days before I say it. I wanna be comfortable around you, Alfie, and I need time for that too."

Alfie nods. "So we're in agreement…friends, for now? We'll talk about more after both of us have had time to heal and work on ourselves."

"Friends," she agrees. There's an awkward pause where she knows a hug or peck on the cheek would fit right in, but she's hesitant. She doesn't know where the boundaries are. They're so used to the intimacy that minor physical contact could easily lead to something far more. She doesn't want to push it, not after they just agreed to be friends.

"C'mere," Alfie says, opening his arms. "Gimme a hug. We're friends. Friends hug, right?"

A wave of she doesn't even know what – relief? calm? – washes over her as she scoots into his embrace.

She breathes him in and rests her head on his shoulder and for the first time in a long time, feels good about their relationship and where they're headed. They're nowhere near fixed yet, but this is a good place to start.

And things can only go up.

* * *

 **Thoughts? I'm trying to be as realistic as possible with the Amfie situation. They can't just get back together without figuring all this out, it'll lead to a lot of repressed feelings which'll come back to haunt them later. They need to solve this as two individuals, and then when the time is right, think about getting back together. It'll happen, I promise. Just not for a while.**

 **Next chapter, Joy finally speaks up, Jerome works up the courage to start looking into his sister, and Eddie and Patricia have a much needed conversation about what Patricia almost tried to do at the end of break. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	47. Chapter 47

**Trigger warnings - depression, suicide, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, and self-harm.**

* * *

Alfie's shoving half a sandwich into his mouth just as the front door opens and Patricia and Eddie walk through. They're both in deep fits of laughter, bodies pressed together and hands clasped. They walk into the common room, and before Alfie has a chance to say anything (before he's swallowed enough to be able to get words out), the sound cuts off like a switch was flipped.

Joy is perched on one of the couches, glaring up at them. Alfie watches the smile drop from Patricia's face. He sees the shift in dynamic immediately, how she drops Eddie's hand and takes a tentative step to the left, creating some distance between them.

It's symbolic of what'll happen to their relationship if this keeps up. Joy's opinion is worth a helluva a lot, and if she keeps this up, Eddie and Patricia are going to drift further and further apart.

He can't let that happen.

Jerome almost tore him and Amber apart. It wasn't until Nina and Fabian sat him down and had a long talk with him that he was on board with their relationship. Alfie knows he has to do the same for Eddie and Patricia.

He's only known for a few weeks, but he already sees it. They have a natural chemistry, a spark that some people have to work for years to find. They have that fairytale kinda love, the love people dream about. It's delicate and fragile but so beautiful and Joy is ruining it. She's like the darkness, the storm clouds closing in on their sunny day. She's the rain on their parade, the dimmer on their bright future full of the happiness they both deserve.

Not for much longer.

"Joy? We need to talk." He sets down the other half of the sandwich and goes into the common room. Joy protests, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her off the couch and into the room he shares with Jerome and Mick. Mick is still at school, but Jerome is there, judging telltale lump under his covers. A loud snore emanates from the ball moments later, and Alfie sighs in relief.

"Ugh, Alfie, what?" Joy snaps. "I'm really not in the mood."

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"How would you feel if Patricia hated Mick and did everything possible to make sure you knew it? I mean, do you enjoy seeing your best friend in pain? I'd think you, of all people, would be on board with Patricia finally being happy especially after last year."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Joy bites the words, glaring at him.

"You don't know what _you're_ talking about," he shoots back. "You don't know how shitty it feels to have your _best friend_ not support your relationship. It _hurts_ , Joy. She's pulling away from Eddie because you don't approve and it's fucking awful because he makes her so happy. Doesn't she deserve it? Why do you want to stand in the way of that?"

"They're not gonna last," Joy mutters. "They're not good for each other. She'll say something or he'll do something and they'll break up and I don't want to pick up the pieces."

Alfie stares at her, dumbfounded. He doesn't understand her logic which makes this that much more infuriating. "How can you be so sure? Why are you being so negative? What the fuck is so hard about supporting your best friend in something that makes her _happy_? It's not like she's hurting you in any way. Besides, she's had a rough year. She's finally happy. Who the hell are you to stand in the way of that?"

"Who the hell am I? I'm the person who has to put her back together when all this falls apart!" Joy shouts. "I'm her best friend, so it all falls on me. What the hell do you think Jerome's been doing for the past few weeks? You've been a damn _mess_ and he's been putting his shit aside to be there for you." She laughs bitterly. "You said Patricia's had a rough year. Honestly, Alfie. Who the fuck do you think knows that better than me? I was the one who got her through it. And clearly I did a shitty fuckin' job because she tried to off herself twice. But who do you think sat up with her until 3 in the morning listening to her talk about suicide and how much she wanted to go and how fucked up she was? Who do you think had to hear about every bad day? Who do you think got into fights with her over a fucking razor blade? Patricia was a goddamn _wreck_ last year, and _I_ was the one who dealt with it."

She beckons him closer and lifts her skirt. He's confused at first, but then he sees the hundreds of deep white scars on her thighs. There are so many. He's always wondered why he's never seen her in booty shorts when all the other girls wear them, and this is his answer. Holy fucking shit.

"She triggered me so fuckin' badly, Alfie," Joy whispers. "I've never been as far down as I got last year. She used to talk about how she wanted to kill herself in such detail that it had me begging for a blade too. She fell, _hard_ , and dragged me down with her. I was in such a dark place last year and no one knew about it because everyone was too focused on her. And I didn't mind, she was in hell and I could handle things." She sighs. "Do you really think I enjoy doing this to her? I don't. It kills me. But it's the only way of detaching myself so I'm not the limpet she clings to when things go south. I can't do that again. It almost destroyed me last time."

"She's your best friend. All that really sucks, but at the end of the day, she's your best friend, and she's finally happy. Why are you so sure it won't last?"

"Because she's my best friend," Joy replies. "I know her. I know she's stubborn and headstrong and hates people that argue with her. And Eddie's the same, stubborn, hard-headed…their personalities are so similar that they _will_ clash and it _will_ lead to an unfixable fight and I just…I can't go through that again. She tried to kill herself twice last year, and what she put me through had me in the same place."

She stands and forces a smile. "I'm sorry, Alfie. I just have to put myself and my own mental health first. I'm sure you understand."

"What do you mean?"

She turns back to look at him. "Isn't that what you've been doing with Jerome?"

* * *

"I just don't know what to do. I don't want to lose you, but every time I think about us I remember how much Joy hates it and I start to feel sick. God, I just…" Eddie sighs as Patricia trails off, shifting her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her head.

"Is what Joy thinks really that important?" He asks hesitantly. He may've just unleashed a monster with this. He knows Patricia and Joy are really close and what Joy says means a lot to Patricia, but Joy's being a real bitch and if her shitty opinion forced them apart he wouldn't take it lying down. Joy doesn't get control of their relationship.

"She's my best friend," Patricia says softly. "You've never really had one…I don't expect you to get it… She's the one person I wanted to tell, as soon as it happened. She's my person, Eddie. She's the person I go to with anything, the person who's seen me at my absolute worst and still loves me, and at the end of the day…she'll be here even if you walk away. What she thinks matters to me. A lot."

"Wait…you're not ending this, are you?" He doesn't realize how fast his heart is beating until the words leave him. He's terrified of her answer, so terrified, in fact, that he's starting to regret ever wanting to go public with their relationship. Everything was so much easier when they were a secret. Sure, they may not have been able to act like a couple in public, but thinking about their relationship didn't make him feel anxious or sick.

Joy's tainted it. Every time he thinks about them he remembers her reaction, he remembers how she marred what was supposed to be such a special moment, and it makes him feel sick.

It's not fair. This was the one part of his life that was completely good, and now it's up there with everything else as good gone bad. He knew good things didn't happen to him but he was really hoping this had turned his luck around.

"Don't be stupid Weasel," Patricia replies. "You're stuck with me." She turns her head and pecks his lips. "I just…I'm so _angry_. I don't get why she has such a problem with this. We're not hurting anyone. We're happy. What's it to her?"

"Can we not talk about her anymore?" Eddie reaches down and grabs her hand, bringing it up to his lips. "There's something way more important I think we need to discuss."

Patricia tenses in his arms, and when she turns back to look at him he doesn't miss the fear in her eyes. He knows she doesn't want to have this conversation – he's not too thrilled about it himself – but she almost tried to kill herself. There's a very big possibility that she would've, had he not walked in on it and stopped her. That's not something they can sweep under the rug.

"I wasn't planning to," Patricia says. "It just…I was looking at the bottle and the next thing I knew the pills were in my hand. I wasn't planning on it, I promise."

"I believe you," he replies, squeezing her hand. "But that doesn't change the fact that it's there, at the back of your mind, and you're very capable of doing it."

"Like you're much different."

"This isn't about me."

Patricia rolls her eyes. "Would this be a good time to remind you that we got together in a hospital room after you actually did try?"

"I'm worried, okay?" Eddie snaps. "I didn't think that was a crime. I found you about to swallow a handful of pills, Patricia! What if…what if I'm not there to stop you next time?"

"You've been suicidal, you know I can't promise I won't do it," Patricia says. "But…I can tell you that I'm not thinking about it. It's not on my mind all the time. I'm not waiting for the right moment. That was just a freak thing. You don't have to worry about me actually doing it, because I…I don't know if I even want to, anymore."

"You…what?"

"I don't know how much I want to go through with it," Patricia repeats. "Being with you has only made me want to do it less. You can stop worrying. I'm okay."

"I just…I can't lose you," Eddie mumbles. "I don't know what I'd do. It's only been a month, but…I think I love you, Yacker…"

His heart is back to racing, after that. He didn't expect to tell her today. He was going to wait until their first date, preface it with a romantic gesture, make it memorable, but it's out there and there's nothing he can do now.

He knows it's soon, but he's fallen in love. He's fallen so hard for Patricia, and it's turned to love so quickly that he almost can't believe it's real. He loves her, the kind of love that you see in fairytales and movies, the kind of love people go to sleep and dram about, the kind of love that many want but few have.

"I love you too, Slimeball." Patricia turns in his arms and presses her lips to his once again. She rests her forehead against his when they pull away, grinning at him.

If Eddie had any doubts about their relationship before, this squashes all of them. No matter what happens, no matter what Joy says or doesn't say, does or doesn't do, he knows one thing for sure.

They're gonna be okay.

* * *

 **Thoughts? What do you guys think of Joy's rationale? Still pissed at her? Do you think Eddie and Patricia are strong enough to survive this and all the other obstacles that come in their way? I know I said there'd be a scene about Jerome starting his search for Poppy, but I felt like this was a good place to end the chapter. It'll be in the next one, I promise.**

 **Next chapter, Jerome begins looking for Poppy, Eddie has another session with Lucas, and Alfie and Mara start to unravel Jerome's 'I'm fine' act. The more reviews I get, the quicker you get the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


	48. Chapter 48

**...hi guys. First, let me start off by addressing the elephant in the room. It's been almost three months. For someone who used to update weekly, that's just not like me. I am _so_ sorry. I never intended to be gone this long, but I started college this year, so August went by way too quickly in a whirlwind of shopping, and then September was me adjusting and trying to find my way in this new chapter of my life. I've been working on this chapter bit by bit, and I wanted to post today because today is exactly one year since I posted the first chapter. One year and 48 chapters later, this story has blossomed into something I never would've expected and I am so grateful for all your love and support. Thank you.**

 **Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, suicide, and depression.**

* * *

"Any particular reason you wanted to come today?"

Eddie glances at Jerome, looks from his bouncing knee to his shaking hands in confusion. He insisted on accompanying him to his therapy session today, not saying anything more and not taking no for an answer.

"I needa talk to Raven," Jerome replies in a whisper. He doesn't say more and Eddie falls silent, taking the hint. He's trying not to pry as not to make Jerome anymore uncomfortable, but it's hard to just sit back and watch as he seemingly self-destructs right in front of him.

"Alright boys, here you are."

Eddie thanks the driver and follows Jerome up the front walk. He stands to the side and lets Jerome ring the doorbell. His heart still picks up speed whenever he comes here. It's so stupid. He shouldn't be this worried about encountering one of Lucas' kids or his wife. New people shouldn't scare him this much.

It's just the anticipation that really fucks him up. That's one of the things he wants to talk to Lucas about.

The door swings open, and just his luck, Lucas isn't standing behind it. Jerome's reaction, the way he perks up and steps forward to hug the woman in the doorway, makes Eddie think she must be Lucas' wife. He recognizes her from pictures on Lucas' desk. Her hair is longer and straightened, but her face is the same.

"Babe, hey, you okay?" She catches Jerome in a tight embrace and runs a hand through his hair the way a mother would. Eddie shifts awkwardly and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to hear what Jerome says but not get too close.

Jerome nods into her shoulder. He mumbles something that Eddie doesn't catch and Raven smiles, stepping back, leading him into the house.

"Eddie, you can go on down to Lu's office," she calls. "He's already there."

Eddie steps into the house hesitantly. Whatever Jerome needs to talk about must be important if it's shot to the top of Raven's priority list. He makes his way down the hall and into the basement in a daze. He can't figure it out. What could possibly be wrong? He cares about Jerome and the idea of something wrecking him this much is scary.

"Oh hey Eddie," Lucas says, as he takes a seat on one of the couches. "Sorry, I got caught up in emails. How's your week been? How was your first real Christmas?"

Eddie shrugs and picks at a loose string on one of the cushions. "I walked in on Patricia about to swallow a bottle of pills and I don't know how to feel."

"You stopped her?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I don't…what's stopping her from doing it again? Like, when I'm not there to catch her? She could leave me any second and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

Lucas nods. "That's the hard part about being with someone who's suicidal. The fear's always gonna be there. And you'll be paranoid for a while. But eventually you realize that living in fear doesn't help."

"But what the hell do I do?" Eddie mutters. "We talked about it, she said she wants to do it less 'cause of me, but that's not…it's not a guarantee. S'not enough."

"One conversation isn't gonna fix all your problems," Lucas tells him. "Talk to her again. And one of the best pieces of advice I can give you is to have a real conversation. None of the lovey shit. It's sweet, but it's not gonna fix things. Love isn't enough. She won't talk herself off a ledge because you love her. Hell, tell your housemother to gimme a call and get her in here if you're that worried. You can't cross your fingers and hope your love is enough to save her because it's not."

* * *

"Mick no, I don't want-"

Joy protests feebly, trying to squirm her way out of Mick's iron hold. He drapes an arm across her chest and holds her in place on his lap, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear. "We needa talk, Joy."

"No we don't," Joy argues. She doesn't want to talk. She already knows what they're gonna be talking _about_ , and she's tired of it. She's tired of the entire house looking at her like she's a monster. They have no fucking idea what they're talking about. They're not the ones who had to deal with Patricia all of last year. They don't know. And until they do, they don't get an opinion. "I already did this, with Alfie. You can ask him."

Mick rolls his eyes. "I'm not asking _Alfie_ what's going on with _my_ girlfriend. I know you, Joy. I know what you've been through. I know how bad last year was. I was there for most of it. I just wanna know what you're feelin'. I want you to talk to me. M'not tryna grill you or anything, I promise."

She loves him. She loves him so much her heart could burst. He always knows just what to say, just how to make her smile when it seems impossible. Tears are burning at the corners of her eyes and she's forcing a sob back, choking on the lump built up in her throat. "I just…"

She starts crying before she can get anything else out, turning her head to press her face into Mick's chest. He pulls her close and starts to rub her back. His touch is grounding. His hold is protective. He is the one person she can count on and she's never been more grateful. He's the one person who's stuck by her, through everything, and there's nothing she'll ever be able to do to pay him back for it.

"No one gets it," she hiccups. "No one understands what I went through last year. It was so hard. She made me feel so shitty. And I was suffocated I felt so fucking trapped with all those horrible thoughts it was horrible I didn't know what to do. I can't handle her getting bad again, I can't."

"I know," Mick murmurs. "But it's not your job, love. It's not your job to take care of her. If her depression gets bad again she'll have to deal with it. And hey, the bright side of her dating Eddie is she has him to help her out. You're off the hook."

"He's just as bad as her," Joy shoots back. "If not worse. How's he supposed to tell her not to kill herself when he wants to blow his own brains out? It won't work! Don't you get it? They won't work!"

"You needa breathe, baby," Mick instructs gently. "You can't work yourself up like this. It's not good for you. You're taking on too many of their problems and it's gonna wreck you all over again. You can't keep doin' this."

"I don't know how to stop," she sobs. "I don't know what to do."

"I gotcha," Mick says. "I'm here and I'm never leavin', okay? We'll get through this, I promise."

* * *

"Is Jerome okay?"

The voice startles her. She jumps, whipping her head up to stare at Alfie. "What?"

Alfie rubs a hand over his face and drops down on the edge of her bed, arms splayed out and voice muffled by the mattress. "He doesn't look good. And I've been shit recently so he hasn't said anything to me. Has he talked to you?"

"No," Mara says slowly. "But now that you mention it…I see what you mean."

She does. The difference isn't too staggering but it's definitely there. He's distant, slightly standoffish. He seems to be on edge all the time, jumping at the slightest touch and retreating to his room whenever possible.

"Did somethin' happen?" Alfie asks. "I don't…I've been so wrapped up in everything with Amber, fuck, m'horrible."

"You're not horrible," Mara replies. "It's okay to take care of yourself. It's okay to put yourself first."

"But Jerome isn't!" Alfie exclaims. "He's been putting _me_ first. It's how he's always been. He puts everyone else before himself and it gets to be too much for him and he has a breakdown. He's been amazin', with this Amber thing, and I've been such a dick."

"There's no use blaming yourself," Mara says. "If something is really wrong, we can't waste time with it. We need to find out what's bothering him."

"That's why I came here," Alfie agrees. "I thought you'd know something."

"I don't." Mara closes her textbook and flips her notebooks shut. "But we can find out. He's at therapy with Eddie. We have an hour before they get back."

"You wanna search his side of the room?" Alfie assumes. At her nod, he shrugs. "I dunno…what if he finds out?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Mara deadpans. "He's not gonna tell us. We have to find out ourselves."

She stands and holds out a hand to him. "Are you in or not?"

He hesitates. Mara knows he's conflicted. On one hand, his best friend's privacy is necessary. They're already a bit rocky, so she can see why he's unsure. But they're not gonna find out anything from Jerome, so this is their only option.

Alfie grabs her hand and pulls himself off the bed. "I'm in."

* * *

"Sweetheart, you gotta breathe. I can't understand a word you're saying. Take some deep breaths, calm down, and then say it."

Jerome's chest heaves as he pants, hands on his knees and head down. He thought coming here would help, having the closest thing he's ever had to a mother would help, but it isn't. His heart is still racing, his stomach is still churning, and he still feels like he can't breathe. The combination is paralyzing.

"M-my…sister…" He gets out, trying to keep his voice steady. "Need your hel-help…"

"Lu told me," Raven says. She kneels in front of him and lifts his chin. "What can I do, babe? What do you need?"

"Needa find her," Jerome whispers. "I don't-don't know how…"

"Okay, we can do that." She shoots him a smile and reaches forward to brush hair out of his eyes. "We can do that. But you need to breathe for me, okay? Panicking won't help."

"I didn't…didn't know." Every time he thinks he's calmed down his mind goes back to the sister he never fucking _knew_ about and the panic comes flooding back. His breathing returns to normal and then quickens in minutes. It's hot and cold and it's exhausting and he's done with it.

"You're still trying to process," Raven supplies. "That's okay. I can make the calls and google some things, you just focus on getting through it, okay? That's all you need to do."

"My dad," Jerome says. "He wanted me to find her. Said…they took her away when he got arrested. I don't even- she could be anywhere! She could've gone to a family that _beats_ her! She could be _dead_!"

There it is. His worst nightmare, out in the open for everyone to hear. His sister could be _dead_. She could've died without knowing she had a biological brother. His stomach turns.

"Jerome, babe-"

"I-I'm gonna be sick."

Raven rushes to grab a trashcan and barely thrusts it into his hands before he's vomiting, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down his cheeks. Everything hurts. It hurts so much and he doesn't know what to do and he's losing Alfie and his sister might be dead and everyone else has problems and it's all just way too fucking much.

He's tired and everything is spinning and the nausea still hasn't subsided and someone is shaking him and he's trying to focus but everything is blurry and he can't see and black spots are invading his vision and he wants to go to sleep he needs to go to sleep sleepsleepsleep.

He doesn't remember anything else.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Interesting things are coming, that I am sure of. Once again, I am so sorry for being gone so long. I hope the chapter makes up for it. I can't thank you guys enough for the love and support you've given me; it's been the sole motivation for me to keep writing. Thank you.**

 **Next chapter, Alfie and Mara find something they definitely weren't expecting, Patricia and Eddie have a genuine conversation about what happened and what they're gonna do about Joy, and Joy...approaches Patricia, only for it to end just as badly as she expected. Oh, and if I can, I'll squeeze in a cute Fabina scene to make up for all the angst.**

 **I don't know when the next chapter will be posted, but if you could review, that would really give me motivation to write it quicker.**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.**


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